


I Won't Leave You

by merlinus_ambrosius



Series: I'll Cover You [1]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Slow Burn, Sort of AU since season 2 has happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 45,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlinus_ambrosius/pseuds/merlinus_ambrosius
Summary: Cara Dune finally makes good on her promise not to leave Din Djarin. But is she risking the best friendship she's ever had to join him and the kid on their quest to find the baby's people?
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune, Cal Kestis/Merrin (mentioned), Cara Dune/Din Djarin, Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: I'll Cover You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064174
Comments: 306
Kudos: 270





	1. Part 1: Sanctuary

Why Cara had said she’d keep an eye on the kid she wasn’t sure. Probably because he was already asleep in his little crib inside and she didn’t have to move from this very spot and from her flagon of spotchka. She watched Mando and Omera at the edge of the village as they went into the forest to gather wood for the fire. They walked slowly, Mando too close to Omera for undertaking an impersonal chore. His head was inclined toward her, respectfully. Omera looked up at him and smiled before the shadows of the forest took them out of view. 

Cara took another swallow and shook her head. It was like watching an old holo from yesteryear of a couple of shy adolescents courting. But what could she expect after all in this bucolic setting? Mando had called it a sanctuary, in passing, and he wasn’t wrong. It _did_ things to you. She wasn't sure it was good things.

She ought to have known things would get strange the minute she saw the Mandalorian walk into the cantina. He had Guild written all over him, and she would have slipped out immediately…but for the curious fact that he was taking tiny strides so that the absurd floppy-eared baby with him could keep up. 

And here she was, riding herd on the little green toddler now. Why?

A footfall behind her and Cara’s blaster was out, but it was only Winta, eyes huge with fright. “I-I just wanted to see the baby.”

Cara returned the gun to its holster. “Well, you can’t. I’m supposed to let him sleep.”

The girl’s lower lip popped out. “But I want to play with him. He loves me. He’s practically my brother.”

“He isn’t your brother. Don’t get attached to him.”

Winta’s mouth formed a shocked O and Cara sighed. And she’d said Mando’s bedside manner stunk. 

“Look, I’m sorry. He’s supposed to sleep now so he can go to the celebration later. You can play with him then. Probably feed him and everything.”

Winta brightened at this and scampered off.

Cara huffed out a breath and laid her head back against the wall of the barn before closing her eyes.

And here he came. 

Cara opened her eyes to where the little guy stood, blinking his huge dark eyes at her. They were so luminescent she could see her own face reflected in them. She had to admit, he was as cute as anything she’d ever seen.

He tilted his head and lifted his ears at her.

“Hello, kid.”

He mewed, exactly like a tooka. 

“You’re supposed to be asleep. Big doings tonight. You’ll want to have some energy so you can eat your frog legs. Cooked ones.”

He looked all around him, slowly, then at her again. She shifted herself so she was fully upright. “You need a bigger crib so you’ll stay put.”

The child narrowed his eyes as if laughing at her and started to toddle toward the center of the village, where the party preparations were gearing up. His little dress almost tripped him up but he kept going. Why Mando didn’t give the kid another set of clothes she didn’t know. 

She stood up to follow him, but at that moment Mando and Omera returned from the woods. 

“Wouldn’t sleep, huh?” Mando asked, nodding toward the kid.

“He slept for a while,” Cara answered. “I can try to hold on to him until you—”

But it was too late. Winta and a gang of children had appeared by magic and swept the little boy off with them.

Omera was laughing. “Every child knows when a party is happening. It’s lucky he closed his eyes at all.”

Mando just shook his head and they continued on with their wood toward the bonfire now flickering in the distance. He turned back to say, “Hey, Cara. Thank you for watching him.”

And she was watching him again now, as his huge ears drooped and he blinked madly. There had been singing (bad) and dancing (even worse) at the celebration, then some small homemade fireworks but excellent food. The baby finally succumbed and now slept wrapped in a blanket, tucked up against Mando’s chest. Omera sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his pauldron. Winta was curled up with her head on her mother’s lap. Now the spotchka was flowing freely, but Mando (of course) and Omera did not drink. They didn’t seem to be saying anything, just gazing silently into the fire together.

It was not so silent here on Cara’s side of the bonfire. Snores emanated from either side of her, where Caben and Stoke slept off their liquor. Perhaps it hadn’t been strictly honest of her, but a bet was a bet and even a small stack of coins wagered over who could outdrink the others could be stashed away against an uncertain future.

The night when they’d taken down the chicken walker, she remembered how Mando had stood in the doorway of the barn with Omera. If they hadn’t needed to hurry, she wouldn’t have walked up so quickly on them. She had obviously interrupted a tender goodbye. Well, she had been oblivious, but there was work to be done. They had put down the raiders inside the tent at their encampment, the two of them working well together. It had genuinely surprised her to find that Mando had finished off an opponent for her. It was strange how quickly she’d forgotten what it felt like for someone to have her back. She hadn’t had a wingman since Hoofer. But Hoofer was dead, ancient history. 

She didn’t know why she felt so oddly protective of Mando since that day. Clearly he could take care of his own skin and then some. But he’d rescued that abandoned baby. She couldn’t get that out of her head. It meant that not far beneath his outer crust, his heart was as soft as a baby Ewok. It was probably his armor that held him together.

Was there a need to interfere with Omera for Mando’s sake? Cara had spent some time with her to feel her out. Cara could pull her weight with chores, and Omera seemed to like the company. Cara heard Omera’s story: Omera had lived here all her life, but her husband’s family had come out after the outbreak of the Clone Wars with their little son, telling of Separatists testing weapons on their planet and how they’d fled to safety. The village took them in and let them buy a share in the ponds, though they disapproved of the weapons the family brought with them. They died not long after Omera and her husband had married, and Omera’s husband too had died young. Omera thought the gases from the weapons had shortened his life. As Cara listened to widow and watched her dealings with Winta, she saw other things too, like hard work, honesty, affection.  
The truth was that Omera exuded peace and gentleness. Omera was the real thing. No action needed on Cara’s part.

But it couldn’t last. These things didn’t. 

Or did they? Maybe for good people, they did.

_Sanctuary…_ The word, spoken in Mando’s muffled voice, echoed through Cara’s head. 

She opened her eyes. She’d had that long dream again, about when she’d first heard the rumors of the Fulcrum and how hope for a free galaxy had blossomed, and then the grim years of war, watching her brothers- and sisters-in-arms die, and the even grimmer years of the aftermath, and how during the riots on Chandrila she’d shot that boy— 

This place, it wasn’t a sanctuary. Not for her. It made her uneasy. There was something here, something that made her anxious, unsettled. She’d patrolled the perimeter of the village a hundred times. She practically knew every tree by this point. Her weapons were in order. She was vigilant. But something stalked her here.

She sat up and threw off the blanket. She’d go do some scouting, just to be sure. Her host, Orneh, or maybe Omera, would have the village’s version of caf on the fire by the time she got back. That would help.

She thought she was up before anyone else, but outside her lodgings in the dim predawn she caught a glimpse of the child, jumping for a frog. Cara found Mando (of course) sitting on a log, watching him. 

“You sure do take care of that boy,” she said, smiling. 

“He could fall into one of these ponds,” he said defensively. “I don’t think he can swim.” He hadn’t outright told her the story of the child, but obviously he wasn’t Mando’s own flesh and blood. She’d guessed the rest. 

She eyed the dark krill pond, remembering how on the night of the raid, she’d been surprised to find him in the water at her back when it was all over.

He tilted his helmet up at her. “Going to make the rounds?”

“Uh-huh.” She looked around the edge of the clearing. “You never know what’s out there.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly he moved lightning-quick and hauled the child out of a mudhole, dripping. “Great. Now you need a bath, wamp rat.”

The child squealed and tried to take a second plunge, but Mando held firm, as when he had hauled Cara out of the pool a few weeks ago, drenched and slippery with mud, but keeping that pulse rifle dry.

“Good luck with that,” Cara said, heading out.

Omera brought Cara another tankard of spotchka before she turned to Mando, who was propping up the wall on the other side of the door. “Can I set you something inside the house?”

“Uh, thank you. Maybe later.” Cara still marveled at his backwardness even after all this time in the village. Maybe living behind that mask did something to his brain, like hampered his ability to speak to pretty women.

“He’s very happy here,” Omera said, smiling at the kid, who was basking in the attention of the other children further down the path.

“He is,” Mando said. Cara didn’t know if Omera caught it, but there was a tremor in his voice. It wasn’t only the boy who loved it here.

“Fits right in,” Omera added before she moved away.

Cara saw the way Mando’s eyes followed the widow. If he was still only at the staring stage, he needed a little help. “So what happens if you take that thing off? They come after you and kill you?”

“No. You just can’t ever put it back on again.”

“That’s it?” Really, for a smart man he was pretty dumb. “So you can slip off the helmet and settle down with that beautiful young widow and raise your kid sitting here sipping spotchka?”

She felt his glare across the four feet that separated them and acknowledged to herself that she had crossed the line. She sipped her drink. Topic off limits, apparently.

“You know, we raised some hell here a few weeks back,” he said. “It’s too much action for a backwater town like this. Word travels fast. We might wanna cycle the charts and move on.”

Wow. Okay. “Would not want to be the one who’s gotta tell him,” Cara said, gesturing to the kid.

“I’m leaving him here.”

Cara found herself speechless but did not dare look at him.

“Traveling with me, that’s no life for a kid. I did my job, he’s safe. Better chance at a life.”

She had to admit, she had not seen this coming. He loved the kid, but was this a noble sacrifice or a chance to offload the sentiment? “It’s gonna break his little heart.”

“He’ll get over it. We all do.”

But Cara knew better. They both did. 

Cara hadn’t waited to finish her spotchka. She wasn’t going to stick around while Mando broke the news to Omera and the child. As she slipped through the trees outside the village, the unsettled feeling was growing again, to the point where she’d named the feeling The Thing. It was a trick she’d learned in the war. Name a thing, and you controlled it.

A little bit, anyway. 

She drew her blaster as a shadow moved in the periphery of her vision. Something dark was heading toward the village. She followed, careful to place her feet where there would be no noise. Her ears caught a faint electronic beep.

_A tracking fob?_

The sound of her shot sent the birds up in a flurry. She heard Mando shouting, and in a moment he was beside her, looking down at the smoking body of the bounty hunter.

Mando picked up the fob. 

“Who’s he tracking?” she asked.

“The kid.” He looked back at the village.

The child was not just abandoned, but hunted. She knew all about that. “They know he’s here.”

“Yes.”

“Then they’ll keep coming,” she said. She was glad she couldn’t see his face.

“Yes.” He dropped the tracker and ground it to bits under his boot.

He walked back toward the village, but she stood staring at the what he’d done to the fob. 

So, with the hunter dead, why was The Thing still haunting her?

The villagers were all standing around looking somewhere on the scale from glum to miserable. Cara wanted no part of this. “Are you sure you don’t want an escort?” she asked Mando cheerfully. She knew he would say no, but this would allow her a graceful exit. 

“I appreciate the offer. But we’re gonna bypass the town and head right to the Razor Crest.”

“Well then,” she said, keeping on her fake smile and hitching her burden over her shoulder, “until our paths cross.” She offered her hand.

“Until our paths cross,” he said, clasping her hand.

 _Just disappear into the trees, Cara._

Where The Thing waited, stronger than ever.

She turned around when she was out of sight of the village. She wanted to watch the wagon carrying Mando and his child go. In a galaxy as large as theirs, it wasn’t likely her path would ever cross Mando’s again.

He had been forced to take the boy away from this sanctuary, this potential home. He hadn’t been able to choose this place in the end. Instead he’d chosen to take the child and go. 

The wagon trundled closer. She could see the back of Mando’s helmet.

Mando…

Mando _himself._

He was the sanctuary for a hunted one.

Cara turned away. 

The Thing that stalked her? She recognized it now. She’d thought she was immune after all these years. Giving the Thing its real name wouldn’t help her to control it this time—it was too late.

She hefted her pack and walked, quickly, into the forest, until the lump was gone and she could breathe again.


	2. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

“See you around,” said the Togruta.

“Yep,” said Cara. 

_I hate myself,_ Cara thought as she watched her one-night stand walk out the door. Why was she like this? 

She needed a drink. Fortunately the Nevarrans had an abundance of a potent alcoholic brew much like spotchka. Which she also drank in abundance. Of course Din Djarin never drank a kriffing thing. He’d never slept with someone he’d known for half an hour to stifle the pain. She bet he never even held Omera’s _hand._

“Aaagh!” She tossed off the contents of her glass and then, after a second’s hesitation, she put it down and picked up the bottle instead. Maybe she would just take this to bed. It would give her as much comfort as the Togruta had, and she had the whole day off from protecting Greef Karga’s hide.

Damn Din Djarin anyway.

No, damn Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan. _“I’m coming with you,”_ she’d said. _“I’ve got you,”_ she’d said. _“I won’t leave you,”_ she’d said. 

But she had. Two long months ago, she’d told Din she wasn’t coming with him—she was staying here on Nevarro.

Because she was not a good person. Because she was a fighter who was brave sometimes but a woman who was a coward.

She groaned and took a couple more swigs from the bottle before swinging her legs into her bed and pulling the blankets up to her chin. But she knew that unless she drank a lot more, she was going to close her eyes and see nothing but Din Djarin, hear nothing but his voice: _“She’s coming with me.”_

The truth was that when he almost died, she had been scared. So scared she’d showed him what was in her heart. All her safeguards had disintegrated there. She’d pleaded with him to stay with her, then pleaded with him to let her stay with him. She’d thrown herself onto the body of a defenseless, dying man—she’d clung to him--and all but begged him not to leave her alone. 

She cringed just thinking about it.

Things had happened so fast after that, and she’d been so happy to see him on his feet again and have his arm around her and hers around him that...that she hadn’t stopped to think about what had happened. Then they’d arrived at the covert, and it had hit her. 

_“A clan of two,”_ the Mandalorian Armorer had said. 

Not three. Two. 

He was going to be the baby’s father, and he was going to follow his Creed with utmost honor until the day he died. There was no room for a damaged outsider like Cara Dune in his life. She wouldn’t even be useful as a babysitter.

And so, when it had come time for him to take his baby and go, she’d said she wasn’t coming. _“You’re staying here?”_ he’d asked, sounding confused and surprised. No wonder, when she’d promised she wouldn’t leave him. But she was proud of how well she’d held herself together. She was fairly certain he’d believed she wanted to stay and benefit the reformed community of Nevarro.

“Ha!” she said aloud. He was too honest to understand what a fraud she was.

What she really wanted was a good cry, like she’d cried when she was a little girl, but of course now she never cried. She guessed the liquid in this bottle was the next best thing.


	3. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

Cara remembered wistfully how everything used to be quick and quiet when she was a shock trooper. Not so much here on Nevarro.

“Go, go, go!” she shouted, waving her team forward before she charged, Bren rifle blazing, into the small compound. She and Wimmi reached the front entrance and stationed themselves at either side, while Crofix took up a position covering the side window.

“This is your last chance, Daima Xu!” Cara yelled. “Come out peacefully, or this place blows!”

Silence.

“Uh, Enforcer?” Wimmi said. “Sounds like—”

The door opened and an explosive rolled out into the dust.

No time for words. She and Wimmi dove away from the door. Fortunately there was a lot of cover here in this junky alley, because the whole front wall exploded then, raining small chunks of duracrete and plaster down on them.

Had Daima Xu survived?

Cara poked her head up above the rubble to assess the situation. She could see Wimmi doing the same. His helmet was dented on top, but he looked to be okay. He jerked his head toward the side window, and she nodded. He slipped away while Cara shouted again. 

“Daima Xu! Come out!”

She hoisted the Brenny to cover what was left of the front wall and waited.

She had just slid out from the rubble and edged around the corner when she heard Crofix whistle. She and Wimmi came out the front, dragging the body.

“Daima Xu has come out,” said Crofix with satisfaction. She and Daima had once been partners and it hadn’t ended well. Neither had this.

“He had to go and cross Greef Karga,” Wimmi said with mock sadness. “And then he tried to kill him.”

“All over a couple of florins,” Cara said. With a shock, she heard the weariness in her voice. What, she hated _fighting_ now too, along with everything else?

“He had it coming,” Crofix said scornfully. 

Cara didn’t argue. “Okay, guys. Take what you want from his equipment, then drag him out to the pit. And for pity’s sake, cover him up. Those dragons will— Actually, you guys take what you want, and Wimmi and _I_ will drag him out to the pit,” Cara said. Crofix had a mean streak and no one deserved to be picked over by dragons. She remembered her terror when she’d heard Din Djarin grunt as the dragons tried to drag him away. She also remembered how he’d set the tail of one of them on fire, and she would have laughed at the memory if she didn’t feel so numb.

Crofix grinned at her as she grabbed Daima’s vibrospear and a hand blaster. “You know me well, Enforcer.”

“Hey, you want anything?” Wimmi asked Cara as he knelt over Daima Xu’s body, pocketing the dead man’s knives and draping his bandolier over his shoulder. 

Cara’s eyes had fallen on Daima’s armor. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, actually. Give me that cuisse.”

Wimmi whistled as he tore it off. “Good call, Enforcer. Looks like a beskar alloy.”

Crofix whistled too, as well as her species could. “Good haul today, team!”

_I’m a hero all right,_ Cara thought as she tucked away the metal and hoisted the dead body onto her shoulder. _“A bounty hunter hive?”_ she heard Din Djarin’s voice say scornfully in her head. 

Well, she had chosen this job. She’d have to live with it.

“Hiring you was the best decision I ever made, Drops,” Greef said as he slid into the booth of the cantina beside her.

Greef had never asked her if it was okay for him to call her that nickname. Whatever. It was all the same anyway. 

“Oh?” she said. She had a glass of Corellian ale this time, and she was nursing it responsibly. For now. 

“You have saved my skin at least a dozen times. And that is just this week.” Greef chuckled at his joke. Cara did not.

A long silence followed, broken when Greef gave an order to the server droid for dinner for two. Then it stretched out again.

“Look, Cara.”

She looked up at the mention of her real name.

“I appreciate your work here. But if you want to go after him, it is okay. I can find another enforcer. I just won’t live as long as I would with you here.”

“What?”

“If you want to go after him, you can.”

She looked into her glass. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Greef sighed. “Are you forgetting I was there? With you and Mando? When he took that hit? I saw everything.”

“You didn’t see anything,” she said, and took a drink.

“I know it was partly my fault for saying you were going to stay on with me. So I am telling you, you can go if you want to. I won’t hold you to it.”

“I’m fine here,” she said. She pushed the drink away before she drowned in it. Where was her food?

“Hey, Drops.”

She turned a glare on him.

“I was in love once too. And I did not go after them. I have always regretted it. Now before you bite my head off,” he interjected hurriedly, “that is the end of my advice today. I just need you to give me a little notice before you head out, that’s all.”

“You have it all wrong, Greef.”

“I don’t think I do. I was there, remember?”

“He…he doesn’t want me.” Was she really going to pour out her heart to Greef? She’d only had three sips. Hadn’t she?

“Drops. Have you looked in a mirror lately? I mean, he might be a Mandalorian, but he is still just a man, isn’t he?”

“He doesn’t care about that. It’s all about his Creed and his honor and his little green baby.”

“Look. I am not an expert. But I know what I saw. If you go to him, he will take you on like a shot.”

Cara shook her head. Where was her glass? Ah, there it was.

Their meals arrived then and silence fell as they ate, but after Greef patted his lips and laid down his napkin, he turned for a parting volley. “I value you, Drops. You are as good as they come. But if you keep going down this road, you will not be. Why don’t you take your chances with happiness instead?”


	4. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

Five standard months. Long enough, you’d have thought, to forget him. To at least dim the feelings a bit. But no. Every damn night, _every single one,_ she found herself thinking of holding him as he lay dying. How his hand had clung to hers. She thought of ending up in the pond on Sorgan with him, how he’d trusted her plan. She thought about the way he polished his rifle, and the way he’d respected the Ugnaught and the way he loved that fuzzy-headed baby. She thought about his devotion to his Creed and the way his heart was so soft for all his warrior-mindedness. 

She thought about the way he held his head. She thought about him manhandling the E-Web. She thought about the flutter of his cape. She thought about the way he sighed. She thought about the way he’d taken on Moff Gideon in a TIE fighter with only a jetpack and a couple of explosives…an hour after he’d nearly died. She thought about his soft, husky voice through the mask and wondered what it was like without it.

 _“I won’t leave you”_ ¬? That was her damn heart talking to Din Djarin, regardless of where her body was in the galaxy. And her heart was speaking truth.

She wasn’t ever going to tell him how she felt. He deserved so much better than she was. But she was going to go mad if she wasn’t with him, somehow. The torture would be exquisite, but it couldn’t be any worse than _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to get these chapters posted all at once. Cara's sadness is too painful to drag out! (I'll just be over here crying in the corner.)


	5. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

It was as easy as sending a transmission.

Cara used Greef’s equipment to send a message that said, simply, “Mando, I have a proposal to make. If you are interested, send a reply and I will meet you at the town gate.”

He had replied within hours. He was coming back the next day.

Cara tried to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She wasn’t asking him to take her on permanently or anything. No. Just to take her on as a member of his team. Not another member of his clan, of course. Hired help.

She purposefully put on the same old battered armor and gave her hair a rudimentary brush. She didn’t want to look like she was trying too hard. 

_Trying too hard for what?_

She waved the question aside and waited and paced and looked out the window of Greef’s office. Greef sat at his desk and occasionally looked up, only to shake his head at her. 

Finally after the fourth time she’d stood and gone to look out at the sky, Greef said, “Drops, why don’t you just go into the cantina and pick a fight? I know that is what you really want to do, and it will help pass the time.”

She glared at him and kept on pacing. She was not about to admit that she didn’t think a black eye would help her cause. 

Suddenly the transmission signal lit up on Greef’s desk. A ridiculous shiver went up Cara’s spine as she heard Din Djarin’s voice confirm his landing spot. 

Cara hoisted her pack and the Bren rifle Mando had given her and nodded to Greef. “Thanks for the job, Greef. I won’t forget you letting me be respectable for a while.”

Greef snorted. “As respectable as it gets around here, anyway. Er, tell Mando I said hello. I do not want to be a third wheel in this, um, meeting.”

Cara curled her lip at him as she went out. She tried to walk slowly down the dusty street, but her feet were as eager to meet Din Djarin as the rest of her. She got to the gateway just as the Crest was setting down. She forced herself to pause until the hatch came down and Mando walked out with the baby in his arms.

Oh, she had it bad. Her heart pounded as he came closer. He looked so fine and his armor was very shiny. Or was that the glow her lovelorn eyes gave him? She had the wit to laugh at herself, and it calmed her a bit.

“Hello, Mando,” she said.

“Hello, Cara Dune,” he said. He held up his hand for their old hand clasp, and she obliged.

On impulse, she gave the baby’s ear a brief caress before she said, “So you know I have a proposition for you, Mando?”

“Yeah. Wanna go into town, or wanna come on board the _Crest_?”

She could not bear to see Greef smirk, so she said, “How about the _Crest_? Unless the little guy's hungry?”

“No, we ate earlier.” He lightly jiggled the baby, who looked up and cooed at his dad. His dad.

Was she out of her league?

Probably just out of her mind.

“Then let’s head in,” she said brightly.

The baby peered at her over Mando’s shoulder as they walked back up the ramp. Once he even gurgled, as though he remembered her and liked her. Cara was feeling a little dizzy. Was this really going to happen? 

They went up to the cockpit, where he gestured for her to sit in the captain’s chair. This made her a little nervous, and she got even more so when he put the baby in his new seat and leaned back, standing, against the corner console. He crossed his hands in a relaxed pose. “So what did you have in mind?”

Cara cleared her throat. The baby was looking at her intently. Could the little guy read minds on top of all his other skills?

“I…I liked working for Greef but, uh, I kind of wanted to do something else. Like, not in the same town where people could recognize me, run my code on impulse. I thought, maybe, since you are traveling around, you might…might want some extra crew.”

Kriff. That was a _terrible_ proposal. She held her breath.

He said matter-of-factly, “You’re always welcome with us, Cara. You know that.”

She was definitely dizzy. She didn’t know whether to try to recover first from _us_ or _you’re always welcome_ or _you know that._

“Oh.” She paused. “So I’m in?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Anything you need to get from town?”

“N-no. This is it.” She picked up her rucksack and the Brenny.

“Okay. Buckle up. But not there. That’s my seat.”

She recognized this as Mando’s humor and chuckled obediently as she stood. She was grateful her knees held. “There’s just a couple of things though…”

He swiveled the chair and tilted his head. 

“Um. Ground rules. If I’m, uh, going to stay here on the _Crest._ I’m going to stay here on the _Crest,_ right?”

“Of course. Actually, I have some rules too. If the door of my sleeping compartment is closed, you can’t come in, under any circumstances.”

“Yes, right. ‘This is the Way.’ I know.”

He nodded. 

“Same goes for me,” she said, even though that was a lie, but there was no way she was explaining how she felt. Under no circumstances was that little secret getting out. “Just no helmet involved. I…do get a sleeping compartment somewhere, right? It can be really small. I don’t need much.”

He nodded again. “We’ll make it work.”

“You’re going to need to close off your fresher area.”

“My—? Oh. Okay, yeah.”

“I’m not just here for the babysitting, although I can do that once in a while.”

“Yeah,” he said, less certainly.

“I like him though,” she said, and grinned.

“I know,” he said.

“And…should I call you Din? Is that okay?”

He paused. “Yeah. That’s okay. But only when it’s just us.”

“All right. So…deal?”

“Deal.”

They clasped hands. He didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he said softly. 

She tried to loosen her hand but he wasn’t cooperating.

“I’m not doing you a favor,” she said. “This is a really good deal for me. In a squad with a Mandalorian? It doesn’t get better than that.”

“Partners,” he said, nodding, before he let go and swiveled back to the console. 

Cara tried not to exhale too loudly. It was true: Greef was right. Mando had wanted her all along…but not quite how Greef imagined.

Din started on the fresher door that day, and then they both spent the next day putting a divider into the cargo area where she had slept on the floor before inserting shelves for bunk and storage. He wasn’t as handy as the Ugnaught had been, so her help was actually valuable. He asked if the Armorer was still in the tunnels, but all she could report was that when she and Greef had gone back, there was nothing there—only an empty duracrete vat where the forge had been.

She and Din didn’t talk much beyond that—only what was needed to get the job done. Sometimes they didn’t even need words for that. 

Din actually started out explaining to the baby everything he was doing (he’d come a long way as a parent in these months since she’d last been with them, but that didn’t really surprise her). The kid stopped listening pretty fast though and spent most of the time getting under their feet and into the tools and trying to hold the welding wand, so finally Din put him in a pouch and strapped it to his back. It made things a little awkward for him but the baby eventually settled down and fell asleep even through all the noise.

They both stood back to admire the work when it was done. “It doesn’t look very comfortable,” Din said doubtfully. 

“It’s warm and dry, so it’s better than a lot of places I’ve slept,” Cara said. She looked away. 

“I have a couple of extra blankets in storage. I’ll get one.”

“Okay.” She sighed and stuffed her bag up on the shelf, then sat down to clean her blaster.

“Here.” Din had returned. There was barely room for the two of them in here, she noticed. Maybe that’s why she felt so hot. She took the blanket and folded it carefully at the bottom of her bunk. 

“Thank you,” she said.

“You sure this is okay?”

“Mando. Yes. Don’t fuss. It’s probably nicer than yours.” She cringed. Why had she brought up his bed? She was an idiot.

“It is, yeah.” 

She could tell he was smiling, so she smiled back, relieved. “So, how about a game of sabaac later? Do you play?”

“I haven’t played much,” he said. 

“Sounds perfect.”

He gave what sounded like a snort and turned to climb into the cockpit. Cara turned back to her blaster, smiling. She’d get out the cards next.

By the time he came back down, she had the drop-down table set up and the cards out. “You’ve really never played this?” she asked as he sat down.

“Only strip sabaac,” he said. 

Her jaw dropped before she recognized the Din humor.

“Okay, that was a good one, Mando. You had me there for a second. But just for that”--she slapped down each card as she dealt—“you’re going down.”

“What are the stakes?” Din asked, picking up his cards.

“Watching the baby for an entire day,” she said. 

“Looks like I have nothing to lose.”

“Oh, you’re going to lose all right. How about seven hands?”

“Stop talking and start playing, Dune.”

He went down heavily the first few rounds, so Cara eased up on him. The baby toddled out and climbed up on his knee, and he held the baby in one arm and studied the cards in his other hand.

Then Cara began to lose and she realized too late that he’d outsmarted her from the start. She knew he wouldn’t lie about not having much experience, but she should have known he’d pick up the concept pretty quickly.

“All right, Din. You won fair and square. Looks like I’m on baby patrol.”

In answer he stood and deposited the baby on her lap and began to gather up the cards. The baby cooed at her. 

“Okay, Squirt. Let’s get you some food.”

Meals were odd aboard the Crest. It seemed that Din usually heated up some broth on his little camp stove and broke out some hard bread and dried fruit for the baby. Now he had to eat in his room, so she felt bad, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. How long had he been under that helmet? Twenty years? Twenty-five? Longer? She wondered if he was older than she was.

She tried sitting the baby at the table to eat, in the special chair Din had made for him, but he kept climbing down and coming over to beg at her knee, so after three tries, she just picked him up and let him sit on her lap. Then he could chow down contentedly. 

Meanwhile, Din propped up the wall on the other side of the room.

“Something funny over there, Mando?”

“Not at all,” he said, but she knew he was smirking.

“Your dad thinks he’s amusing,” she told the child. “But he is not.”

The child only cooed and blinked at her and tried to grab her hair.

“His dad…,” said Din softly, but Cara heard him. He looked at her and she looked at him, and then he nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

When she finally crawled into her bed, she was exhausted. How did Din do this all the time? The kid was a ball of mischief. Not to mention he never slept. 

The problem was it was only her body that was exhausted. Her mind was wide awake. 

Wide awake and full of Din Djarin. Who she had no business thinking about in that way at all. They were going to be comrades, brothers in arms, nothing more. She had done that dozens of times, with beings of all genders. She could do this. She was actually an expert at this. It was what Din needed and the only relationship she had a right to with him. So be it.

But first…first she had to clear up one thing.

The next morning she found him on his back under the area where the carbon freezer was, battling through some loose wires. 

“Um, Din?”

“Yeah?” he said. Something sparked and he inhaled sharply.

“Is this a bad time?”

He sighed and slid out from under the panel. “No. I need some parts I don’t have anyway. What’s on your mind?”

Suddenly shyness assailed her. _Her,_ Cara Dune. Why hadn’t he stayed under the panel? It would be so much easier if they weren’t looking at each other.

“You sure I can’t help you out with that?”

“No, I need the parts first, but thanks.” He waited for her to go on.

“I just…” Where was the baby when she needed a diversion? “Hey, I, uh, brought you something.”

“Yeah?”

She brought the cuisse out from behind her back. “I thought you might like this since your other one got blown off on Nevarro.”

He took it from her reverently. “Beskar? Where’d you get it?”

“I don’t think it’s pure beskar,” she said apologetically. “I took it off a dead guy who crossed Greef.”

He looked down at the obviously inferior plate on his right thigh. “I can make this work. Thank you.” 

She looked at her boots. “And I…wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?”

She resisted the urge to shuffle her feet. “For…saying I wouldn’t leave you and then…leaving you.” She didn’t dare look up, until the silence stretched out so long she had to peek. If he brought up what else had happened that day when her guard was down…

“Cara. Where are you?”

“I’m…here?”

The helmet was still. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking back down at her boots.

“That’s what matters to me.”

She risked a look up at him.

He nodded once, then turned and climbed up into the cockpit.

When the baby woke from his nap (too short), Cara took him up to the cockpit with her and settled him on her lap. “So tell me why we’re going to this Obroa-skai again?” she asked Din. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s rumored that there was once a huge library on the planet, along with a Jedi presence. It was a long time ago, and the ISB has been there since, the story goes, so there’s probably nothing left. But I need to try to find the child’s people.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing since I saw you two last?” Cara asked. “Gathering intel on the Jedi?”

“More or less,” Din said with a sigh. She gathered it had not been entirely successful.

She smoothed down the fuzz on the baby’s head. “You know,” she said slowly, “there were rumors of Jedi with the Rebellion.”

Din turned to look at her. “With the Rebellion?”

“Yeah,” Cara said slowly. “I didn’t believe it at the time—I’d never seen anything like what this little guy can do, so why would I? Anyway, the story was that Luke Skywalker was a Jedi who killed Darth Vader. And the Emperor too.”

“Sounds unlikely, doesn’t it? Did you ever meet this Luke Skywalker?”

“No, but… Well, Din, the Emperor did die. And Vader too.”

“They were betrayed from the inside, Cara. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Cara shook her head. “I don’t know, Din. It—it didn’t feel that way.”

Din tilted his head at her. “Were you there? I thought you just came for the mopping up.”

“Well, yeah. But we were in the troop ships waiting to make the jump into the battle zone. We heard all the coms from the strike team.”

“And you think a sorcerer snuck onto the bridge of the Emperor’s destroyer and just—killed him?”

“I don’t know. _Something_ happened. And I know Luke Skywalker was real. I actually saw him once, on Chandrila.”

“Did he--?”

“No, he didn’t do anything magical.” She grinned. “Turns out he’s the natural brother of Princess Leia, and he was taking his baby nephew for a stroll. They say he disappeared afterward. Disappeared as in, out of contact with anyone and not in the public eye.”

“Princess Leia of Alderaan? I thought she was the daughter of the queen.”

“Yes. Adopted. Birth brother was Luke Skywalker, apparently.”

“So. Her brother is a sorcerer Jedi. How about her?”

“Oh.” Cara blinked. “I never considered… Is sorcery hereditary?”

They looked at each other.

“There’s no way I can go back to Chandrila, Mando.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment.

“I—I can’t tell you about it, but I can’t go back.”

“Okay. We’ll try Obroa-skai.”

“I couldn’t get to Princess Leia anyway, Din. She’s royalty.”

“Obroa-skai it is.”

Cara opened her mouth to insist once more, then closed it. It was too late anyway. Din already knew something bad had happened on Chandrila and the more she talked, the more he’d wonder. Besides, he said they weren’t going. For now.

“Here, you better take him,” Din said. The baby had slipped off her lap while they were talking, climbed into his, and was messing with the switches again. She hadn’t even noticed. 

She gathered the squirming toddler up and took him down to his bed where his stuffed tooka and his ball were. But the baby wasn’t interested. He held up his arms to be picked up, so she did, and he peered into her face. “I’m all right,” she told him. Maybe Din would just think she had been talking about her chain code concerns, but she doubted it. He was very quick on the uptake. 

She decided to sit and hold the baby and tell him a story. It felt right.

Once she had finally talked herself hoarse, the baby had settled into his bed and seemed sleepy enough to stay there. Cara retreated to her own bed and slowly took off her armor for the night. After a moment’s hesitation she took off her pants too and slid into bed in the padded shorts and shirt she wore underneath. She wondered what Din wore under— No, she was not going there. She was not going to think about Chandrila either. 

She groaned. It was pointless to try to sleep. Her mind drifted back to that last day in Nevarro with Din and the child… _“I need your eyes,”_ he’d said. Did he? Was that why he wanted her back? She thought of how after he’d almost died, he’d accepted her shoulder to lean on and her arm around him without question… 

Of course, that had probably been the head injury talking.

A coo sounded outside her door, then a scratching noise. 

Well, she was still on the clock and the baby was at least a distraction. She pressed the door open to find the little guy holding his arms up to her, his eyes wide. She picked him up just as Din came down from the cockpit.

The child cooed at him, and he came to stand beside them. “Is he keeping you up?” He touched his son’s ear.

“Nah, I was awake,” she said. “Is it okay if I take him in here with me? Saves travel.”

“Sure,” he said. There was an awkward pause. Cara wondered if seeing her in shorts made him uncomfortable. It was hard to tell with him just standing there still, as normal. She wished perversely that she’d stripped down to her underwear. Or to her skin.

“Okay,” she said. “Good night.” She stepped back and pressed the door shut. The child gurgled. 

“All right, you,” she told him. “Hop in here and snuggle up. We’re really going to sleep this time.”

And they did. 

She woke with the comforting warmth of a little being pressed against her hair. He preferred to sleep above her head on the pillow, but that suited her because she was afraid she’d roll over (not that there was much room for that) and squash him in her sleep. This worked out just fine.

He didn’t wake when she stirred, and once she had disentangled all her hair from him, she stood and pulled on her pants. She was really going to have to figure out how this washing and hygiene stuff was going to work with Din and company. That baby needed new, clean clothes. And if a shock trooper like Cara Dune—not a real parent by any stretch--could see that, it must really be needed.

After a visit to the fresher, she headed to Din’s tiny pantry for some breakfast, only to find him there first. Well, it wasn’t a huge ship.

“He probably needs some bread and maybe he’ll eat these berries,” Din said, handing them to her without looking up.

“And good morning to you too,” Cara said. “How about droppers? They also have to eat.”

Din handed her a jar of pickled mynock livers.

“Ha ha. Why do you even—who eats this stuff?”

“Someone must,” Din said. “No, Cara gets this.” He passed her a basket of roasted grains and dried fruits.

“This does look better. Thanks. Did you eat yet?”

“I was just going back to my bunk to do that.” 

“Right. I’ll take care of Sprout. Grab what you want from here.”

He took one small loaf and a packet of dried apples. Cara shook her head at him and held out another loaf and some kind of fruit muffin. 

“Okay,” he said, accepting them. She could tell he was smiling.

By the time she’d fed the child and started to gather up supplies for their visit to Obroa-skai, he was fussy and clingy. She finally put him in the carrier Din had used and strapped it to her back, but she had to put all her hair into a braid she coiled at the top of her head because he kept pulling it. What was taking Din so long, anyway? Did he have to shave? Meditate? Maybe he was cutting his hair. She bet it was a mess. For some reason that made her happy, and she grabbed Din’s datapad and started a list of supplies they needed. Starting with clothes for young Master Djarin.

As soon as the child heard Din’s door slide up, he started climbing out of the carrier and fussing. Cara slipped it off and let the kid toddle to his dad. Din picked him up and looked down at the pack Cara had assembled. “Is that for planetside? How about a weapon? Do you want something besides your blaster?”

Cara cocked her head at him. “Aren’t we going to a library? How much trouble are you expecting?”

Din snorted. “We’re going looking for a library that the Imps probably destroyed. And I always expect trouble.” 

“You’re not wrong,” Cara said. “All right. Why don’t you give me a flash charge or two? Seems library-appropriate.”

Din opened the weapons closet and handed her a couple. “The first thing we need to do is get you a cloak, Cara. With a hood.”

She turned to look at him. “You think there’ll be bounty hunters there?”

“I don’t know. I told you, I expect trouble. If you can wear a hood, it might help.”

She sighed. “All right. But we’re also getting different clothes for this kid. He can’t keep wearing the same thing all the time.”

The baby had slithered out and was nosing around the weapons closet, so Din gently backed him up and closed it. The baby suddenly made a strange squawking sound Cara had never heard. She turned to Din, wide-eyed.

“He’s mad,” he explained.

“For kriff’s sake,” Cara muttered. 

“Let’s get our supplies and come back here tonight,” Din said. “Then we’ll look for the library and we can get away quick if necessary.”

There proved to be no difficulty in securing a docking berth in the small spaceport. The complex was old, and the damage it had taken during the war had not yet healed over. But the city itself was fairly cosmopolitan, and Din’s armor did not draw as many eyes as Cara feared it would. It was only a short walk to the open-air market, where they found almost everything they needed, from food to cloak to baby clothes to wiring and pipes. Cara found an old dagger she took a hankering to, but she put it back. She had no idea how much money Din actually had, and she didn’t want to waste it. The only thing they couldn’t find was one part for whatever Din was doing with the old carbon freezing area, but they were told they could find that at a shop in town. 

“A pretty successful trip,” Cara observed, setting down the two containers of water that had been her main purchase of the day.

Din unstrapped the child and let him toddle free. He amused himself by crawling into Din’s parcels and tearing into one of the food packets.

Cara told herself she was not disappointed that the baby stayed put in his own bunk that night and didn’t come scratching at her door. She was up early, strapping on her armor and tucking away her weapons. As soon as she came out of her room though, she heard the child fussing. He wasn’t in his room though. He was in Din’s. He was making a lot of noise.

After a moment of hesitation, she went and knocked on the door. It slid open. The baby was fussing and drooling all over Din’s gloves as he sat on his bed and jiggled him.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know. I think he might be getting a tooth. Don’t babies get cranky when they get a tooth?”

Cara shrugged. “What do you do for that? Give him a bone to gnaw on?”

“I’m fresh out of bones,” Din snapped.

Cara made a decision. “Why don’t you give him to me. I’m sure I can find some painkillers or something. Getting a tooth has gotta hurt. Maybe you can still get some sleep.” Without waiting for him to answer, she took the baby and walked out. The door closed instantly behind her. The baby fussed louder, but she took him to the med cabinet and found a stim charge. “Well, kid, I hope this dose isn’t too much for you, but… Here goes.” He really wailed until he realized it wasn’t actually hurting him, then fell to whimpering until she dug out a long slice of dried meat from Din’s food supplies. At first Sprout refused to even let it near him, but after she took him up to the cockpit and swiveled him in the pilot’s chair for a while, he accepted it and chewed, drooling like a fountain, and eventually fell asleep in her lap.

In fact, Cara fell into a waking doze herself until Din came into the cockpit. He sat in the back chair. “He finally calmed down?” he whispered.

“I gave him a heal stick. I hope that’s okay. He seems all right, just drooly.”

“Okay.” He looked at the child for a few more moments and then said, “Thank you for taking him, Cara.”

“It’s all right. Kids can be a lot. That’s what partners are for.”

“Yeah,” he said. 

She hated when she couldn’t read him. To break the silence, she nodded her head toward the windows. “We’re losing a lot of daylight, Mando. We should get going.”

“All right,” Din said, heading for the door. “You hand him down to me and we’ll get started.”


	6. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

The sky grew darker as Cara and Din passed the market plaza and went into the city itself. After they had picked up the electronic parts and a few stim charges and medpacs for the baby, the sky opened up and rain hissed down. Din passed off the baby to Cara to shelter under her cloak. “I think we should probably just get lodging here in town and look for the library tomorrow,” he said.

“All right,” Cara agreed doubtfully. A merchant pointed them to a decent-looking inn, but the weather seemed to have tempted all travelers indoors. They dashed in under the awning and traipsed inside the outer room, dripping. Din haggled for a room in a language Cara didn’t know, and he finally turned back to her with a sigh.

“Supposedly there’s only one room left. Bonus, has its own fresher.”

Cara put a hand on her hip. “Not that old routine. Let me guess. Outrageously priced, and only one bed?”

“Yeah.” Din sighed again, fished out the credits, slapped them on the counter, and turned to follow the proprietor through an inner door and up the stairs. 

Cara muttered under her breath as she trudged up the steps. But at least maybe she’d get a shower with real water. Now that would be a treat. She could even wash her hair…if she had some soap. She would figure something out. And she would talk to Din about making water a regular part of their lives somehow.

Surprisingly, the room seemed to be clean. Even the sheets on the huge bed. Cara inspected the fresher and found that to be spotless too. Meanwhile, Din examined the windows for escape routes and was scanning something in the room with his infrared vision or whatever was in his helmet. He really didn’t rest, did he? 

She put the child down on the bed, where he immediately began to jump and roll around and babble. He was still drooling, but he didn’t seem to be in pain anymore.

She flopped down onto the bed beside him. “So, do we want to get some hot food for this little one, or just feed him from our packs?”

Din sat down on the other side of the child. “Looks like there’s a little cantina across the street. I’ll go get us some food and see what I can find out about the library.”

Cara raised an eyebrow. “Or about the Jedi.”

Din nodded. “I have the room code, but when I come back, I’ll knock like this too.” He demonstrated on the headboard of the bed. “So you know it’s safe.”

“Bring back plenty,” she said, closing her eyes. “Wanna take my cloak? Don’t want to get that pretty armor any wetter.”

He ignored her and went out. She smirked. After a moment she realized it was unnaturally quiet. She sat up, looking for the kid. She found him inside the sink, splashing in the water.

“You know what?” she said, and pulled the stopper. “You’re having a bath, sweet cheeks. Brace yourself.”

But the child loved it. He splashed and squealed and cooed so loud she didn’t even hear Din come in. The problem with being around Din was that he was so cautious he made her forget to be. But Din didn’t seem upset as he followed the noises into the refresher. 

“He’s a natural,” Cara said. 

“Yeah, remember how he kept trying to dive into the ponds on Sorgan? I thought it was just for frogs. But maybe that’s what his species does.”

Cara shrugged. “He’s having the time of his life, anyway. Do you think… Do you think we could rig up some kind of water system on the Crest? It would make keeping all of us clean a lot easier.”

Din was still. “Well…” He left the room and came back with the part he’d bought in the city. “This was the main part I needed to hook up a water heating system. I wanted to put a shower unit in where the carbon freezer was.”

“Aw, Din…” Cara really, really wanted to hug him, but she refrained. “That’s… Thanks.”

“I’m not sure how we’ll actually do it,” he said, looking down at the baby, who was kicking water all over the room and onto Cara. “I can rig up a refiltrating system, but I’m not sure about the initial holding—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cara said, smiling. “I really appreciate--”

The baby took a leap out of the sink, slid straight through Cara’s hands, and landed in Din’s arms as he lunged.

“He’s going to be the death of me,” Cara said.

Din stood his son on the floor and grabbed a towel. “I think you’re done here, womp rat. Let’s put you in your new clothes and feed you.”

“Feed him _first,_ ” Cara called, mopping up the puddles.

When the child had finally eaten his fill and fallen into a satiated stupor, Din tucked him into the middle of the bed. 

“Now,” said Cara, “either I’ll go into the fresher and take a long, long, long bath, and you can eat your food while it’s hot, or I’ll stay here and you go into the fresher. Either way, eat.”

Din tilted his head at her. “Cara Dune, you’re bossy.”

“You bet your beskar I am. Are you eating or not?”

“Okay.” He picked up his pack and his portion of the food and went into the fresher. 

She tugged off her boots and stretched before she pulled out the datapad and looked up “Jedi.” There was no official information, but she found a release from the New Republic saying that the Jedi had been maligned, and any found living still would be pardoned. There was some chatter from public sites about how they had turned on the emperor and betrayed the Senate, or were responsible for the fall of the empire, or that the Acolytes of the Beyond would hunt them down and kill them. 

Nice. 

There was basically nothing besides that. She’d have to go into different databases to find anything more concrete.

“Hey.”

Cara startled awake to find Din standing in front of her. “Hey,” he repeated softly. “I just wanted to let you know…you can go in there if you want.” He nodded toward the fresher.

“Oh,” she said groggily. “Thanks…”

She staggered into the room, flipped the plug, turned on the tap, stripped to the skin, and sank down into a boiling hot bath. She was going to broil herself, and stay in the water into she turned into a bright red prune. After she unbraided and washed her hair. With the bottle of hair soap on the edge that Din had left her. She loved that man, even though she was never ever ever going to tell him that, and that was how it should be.

After a while she heard Din’s voice and wondered if he was trying to talk to her through the door. But then she heard Sprout’s coo, and realized he had woken and the two of them were talking to each other since they were alone. That was actually pretty adorable. As she listened, she realized Little Magic was verbalizing a lot more to Din than he ever did with her. But then again, she rarely had long conversations with him like this one was turning out to be. These two had probably long ago established this father-son time before Cara Dune butted into their lives. She ignored the pang of jealousy at being on the outside. After all, she was not family. Just a working partner, nothing more.

When she woke the water was tepid and nasty, so she climbed out, toweled herself off, put on clean skivvies and underarmor, then washed out her old stuff and hung them up, as well as the baby’s. Then she padded into the dim bedroom and curled under the blankets beside the child. Din was on the other side, not an arm’s length away, fully dressed (except his boots?) and armored of course. She didn’t know if he was asleep, but whatever the case, he didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed, so why should she be? Clearly he never thought that way about her. Besides, they’d slept closer together in the wagon on the way to the village on Sorgan. She listened to the soft, regular breathing—his or the baby’s? 

Either way, comforting. Safe, oh so safe. She laid her head on the pillow, three handsbreadths from his, and slept.

When she awoke, morning light was filtering in, but Din was not in the bed. Her heart suddenly pounding, she lifted her head and saw him crouching by the door, blaster in hand. She tried to rise but had to disentangle the child from her hair, and then she had to find her blaster among her things on the console. She cursed herself for a terrible guardian as she took her place behind Din, from where she could cover him.

He didn’t gesture to her, and she realized he was listening. On the other side of the door she heard only footsteps, some running, some steady. Finally the steps ceased and he stood slowly.

“What was that?” she whispered. 

“Just some kind of chaos in the hall,” he said softly. He snorted. “Probably just a family. With kids.”

“Actually sounds very likely,” Cara said, lowering her blaster.

The child was stirring, and Din dug in the pack for something to feed him while Cara pulled on her pants (not clean). She turned to find Din in the act of looking down at the child. Had he been watching? Well, well. Maybe she’d strap on her holster belt in his full view and see if that got him looking too. In fact, he’d probably be more interested in that than in her. She snorted to herself and went to gather up the clean clothes from the fresher. 

_He might admire the outside of you, Carasynthia Dune, but man like that will want nothing to do with who you are in the inside,_ the voice in her head whispered. Cara went cold. 

It was right.

She packed their things away in silence.

Din had decided to initially scout out the old library site from the rooftops, so Cara stood outside the alley where he’d found footholds and tried to look casual. She had never been too good at that, but it helped having a baby to hold. She tried looking motherly and doting but she was pretty sure she failed. Hauling the giant Brenny around probably didn’t do her any favors, although it was sheltered under her cloak. She did note that there was a particular storefront down the street that a few people had gone into and not come out. That could mean any of a number of nefarious activities. She’d investigate once Din came back. 

A group of mothers and children shuffled by and lingered near her while they gathered their straggling members. One woman looked at Cara and rolled her eyes, inviting her to join in the exasperation over herding kids. Sprout watched the proceedings, ears pricked and eyes wide, eager to jump out and join in the chaos, no doubt. Cara took advantage of the eye contact to ask the woman if she knew anything about the old library. 

“Never heard of it,” the woman said. “This place has been nothing but a pile of rubble since the war anyway. But does the government do anything about it? No. With the taxes we pay, you’d think we’d at least get a say in what goes on around here. But no, just crime and corruption…” The woman faded into the group as they crossed the street and corralled the young members who’d strayed already.

Cara was wondering if she dared ask anyone about Jedi when she noticed that the storefront now had a person lingering outside it, casually leaning against its wall, smoking a deathstick. And carefully avoiding looking in Cara’s direction. Kriff.

She pretended to fuss over Sprout, whose attention was suddenly on the alley. Cara turned to see Din emerge, so she casually walked away from him down the street. He’d see her and follow, and perhaps the watcher would not realize they were together. Probably a false hope, but worth trying.

A few blocks down and around the corner she stopped in a small green park and let Din catch up. She explained about the watcher while he relieved her of the baby and his carrier. 

“Let’s hope they were just protective of their territory and it has nothing to do with the library,” Din said. “The site itself looks completely abandoned, but I’ll go check it out. There is some old housing nearby that I’ll look into first. If anyone still lives there, maybe someone remembers what it was all like when the Jedi were here.” 

Cara really had her doubts anyone was going to know anything about any Jedi but she held her peace. They had come this far, so they might as well check the place out.

Din knelt and drew a diagram of the site in the dirt with a stick. “Here’s where I plan to go in.” He indicated an open area in the front that had once been a plaza. “And if you can keep an eye on this area, you’ll be doing the best covering you can for us. Does that sound okay?”

“Sounds okay, boss,” Cara said. “I’ll give you a whistle if I need you.” She gave him a cheeky grin.

Din led the way around the opposite side of the block they’d come, and Cara set up in the shadows across the street. Honestly, with the weeds growing up around it and the utter quiet coming from it, the ruin was pretty creepy. At least there should be some animal sounds or rustling coming from the undergrowth. But no. 

Time ticked on. Hardly anyone ventured into this part of town it seemed, and Cara began to suspect why. So it did not really surprise her when she heard a group of people walking up behind her. She moved away casually, reaching for her hand blaster under her cloak and a fistful of flash charge. Seemed like this was some kind of gang, and she was in their territory. 

She had already picked out a spot to take a stand, where any fuss would (hopefully) come to Din’s ears in the library ruins, and where there was rubble to escape through. She strolled there, not looking back, though she heard more steps gather behind her. Finally she arrived and turned around.

There were probably fifteen of them, of various genders and species. Not good odds. No one said anything. No one moved. Well, she could stand like this all day and buy time for Din, but if there were more of them, they’d soon be arriving.

Finally one of them stepped forward with a club. She could see that a couple of them had blasters, so she’d have to be very, very careful.

“You’re in the wrong place, trespasser.” It came through a voice modulator, but the Basic was clear.

“My apologies. I will leave,” Cara said, making as if to go, but her response triggered them to yell and charge her. 

The flash charge went off—not as effective in sunlight, but still a pretty blinding light, and enough to allow Cara to slip in behind the stonework and scurry, bent over, toward the street on the other side. Too late she realized the shadows here also dimmed her own vision, and she fell headlong as her foot was grabbed from behind.

Not by a person, but by a trap. A literal metal animal trap.

Kriff.

Cara’s boots were tough enough that the dull old teeth didn’t penetrate, but the trap was chained to the ground by a peg buried deep. 

She huffed, put her hand blaster in her mouth, grabbed each side of the metal jaw, and pulled. She’d done this before, but this trap was rustier and stiffer. With her hands she managed to open the jaws of the trap far enough to jam the hand grip of her blaster into its maw. She let go, took six or seven deep breaths, then repeated the process, pulling the blaster out with her mouth while prying the jaws of the trap open. She managed to separate them enough to slip the whole length of the blaster in this time to hold it open. She took the time to gasp for breath again before she was able to slide her foot out around the gun. 

But the trap had clamped pretty hard and she had yanked her foot pretty good before realizing she was caught. She could feel it swelling already. _Dank ferric_.

She heard a yell and a shot rang out, a blaster bolt whining by her head. She felt a small impact by her ribs and felt rather than heard a strange crunching, even as she dove for cover and then crawled along the gravel, praying to whatever gods the universe still hosted that no more traps remained. She paused to pull the Brenny around the front of her, peer out from behind a shattered pillar, and make a break down the street toward the corner. As she ran, she heard the shards of the shattered datapad tinkling to the ground. She felt worse about that than anything else. Who knew how much that thing cost, and Din didn’t have another one.

She heard the noise of pursuit, but it didn’t seem very close. No doubt they were waiting for her around the next corner. 

Did she want to die over a deserted library, for kriff’s sake? 

No, but if it meant protecting Din Djarin and his kid...

Still, she thought as she veered around another alley and hurdled some vendor’s carts, it seemed this was not a very experienced gang of thugs, because she already seemed to be back in a safer public area. She slowed, hid the Brenny under her cloak, and tried to look casual as she walked along in front of several reflective storefronts. She saw nothing behind her in the windows’ reflection but the setting sun.

But now, as she slowed and the adrenaline receded, the pain plowed into her and staggered her.

“Cara!” 

She knew it was Din, but kept walking, or hobbling now, until she was sure she was out of sight of the gang, and let him catch up with her.

“Did you learn anything?” she asked breathlessly as he came running.

“I’ll tell you later.” He threw her arm up over his shoulder and slid his arm around her waist. “I’ve got you. Let’s get out of here. That looks bad.”

The baby huddled down in his carrier as Din hustled Cara, her pain growing exponentially, out into the maze of the market. She was seeing black spots by the time he half carried her up the ramp into the _Crest._ He smashed the button to close the door and sat her down on the floor propped against the wall before he ripped open a medpac and stabbed her with a stim stick. Then he pulled her boot up onto his lap and started tugging at it.

“You might have to cut it,” Cara gasped. “But they’re my only boots right now—”

When she came to again, the boot was off, as well as her sock, and he was gently touching around her ankle, or at least where her ankle had been under all the swelling. The waves of pain were still washing over her, but they were receding. 

“I don’t think your bone is broken,” Din said. “It feels like a sprain. But I guess you know sometimes those hurt even more than a break.”

Cara nodded, not trusting her voice yet. 

Din extracted the squirming child from his carrier and set him down, then activated the compress from the medpac and applied it gently to her ankle, still propped on his thigh. 

She gasped with relief, and the child put his hand on her knee and cooed. 

“That’s—that’s much better,” she said. “Thanks, Mando.”

“You need to get into your bunk and rest.”

“Okay.”

She wasn’t the size of woman a man could pick up and carry, but Din again threw her arm up around his neck and helped her to stand on her good foot and hop back to her room. He slid the pack off her back and knelt to tug off her other boot. Was she really going to let this Mandalorian, one of the best warriors she’d ever known, be a nursemaid to her?

She started to protest but she bumped her ankle against his leg armor and the pain shut her up instantly. 

“You want another pain stick? A second one’ll knock you completely out for a couple hours though.” He unbuckled her holster belt and slipped both arms around her hips to slide it around.

“No, I’m…” She was definitely dizzy. “I’m sorry, the datapad… Did you— Did you ever tell me what you found out about Sprout’s people?”

“Later. Rest now.” Din eased her down onto her pillow and pulled the blanket up over her. He picked up the child, who lunged down to pat her hair and gurgle at her before they exited her room. In just a few minutes, Cara felt the _Crest_ lift off, and then, dimly, the hum that meant hyperspace.

Cara woke to a soft knock at her door. “Come,” she said groggily. Something warm was curled up next to her ear, snoring gently.

“Hi,” Din said quietly from the door. “I couldn’t find him—just needed to make sure he was okay.”

“Oh.” Still half asleep, she struggled to sit up. 

Din tried extracting the baby. “You can lock the door, you know, Cara. He’ll be fine by himself. Or in with me.”

She snorted. “If you think a locked door is going to keep Little Magic out, think again.” She took a steadying breath as Din’s gloves moved through her hair. “He really likes this rat’s nest.”

“You have nice hair,” Din said. Struck dumb, Cara watched as he lifted the baby up to his shoulder, where the little one curled into a ball, eyes shut tight and ears drooping.

“Are you awake enough to talk, or do you still need to sleep? I have a compress here, or I can get you another stim stick."

"No, I'm..." She didn’t know how she was, so she switched on the tiny light they’d rigged up over her bunk. She was pretty sure she resembled a day-old corpse, but at least the hair sticking out all over her head looked nice, apparently.

Din handed her the compress, so she hauled her legs out from under the blanket and let one dangle while she doctored the other. The ankle was black, with an ugly brown and blue edge where the swelling began.

“So what do you have to talk about so very, very, very early this morning?”

“We need to go to Coruscant.”

_“What?”_

“That’s where the last Jedi Temple was. I need to look for answers there.”

Cara stood as best she could, and in this tiny space she was toe to toe with him. “I can’t go anywhere near the Core, much less Coruscant. You know that. I’ll be taken up in two seconds flat. If you’re going to Coruscant, you’re going alone, pal.” She tried to push past him, realized how stupid the situation was, and sank onto her bed again. 

“I’m sorry, Mando, I… I guess my first instinct the last few years is just to run.” She picked up the compress, avoiding his gaze.

Din was silent for a moment before he said, “Cara Dune, your first instinct is to beat the hell out of someone, and we both know it.”

She was startled into a bark of laughter. “You’re not wrong.” She put the compress back on her ankle. The swelling had gone down a bit, she thought, but she still looked seriously deformed. “All right, tell me your plan before I beat the hell out of you.”

“You’re welcome to try.” The joking tone left his voice. “Like I was saying. I know you can’t show your face or let anyone run your chain code. So the options are, I drop you off somewhere else before I go, and pick you up afterward. Second, you come along, but disguised. Third, you stay barricaded in the _Crest_ with the baby and let your ankle heal. I like the last option the most. Over to you.”

She huffed out a breath. “What kind of contacts do you have there? Even getting permission to land will be a big deal. Then you have to find a secure landing site. Which is going to be very difficult.”

Din sighed. “Yeah. I might have a few contacts, but…they’d be just muscle, or squealers. Shady types. Nothing official. And I don’t know any of them well—they’re just names.”

“What we need is a slicer. I don’t suppose you have that in your skill set?”

Din shook his head. “And I don’t know one I can trust.”

Cara thought a minute. “But I do.”

Din tilted his head. 

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Cara said. “She works for the chief of cyberwarfare for the New Republic. She’ll have access to secure points in Coruscant. And she owes me a favor.”

The blue image wavered and blacked out, then came back in tiny blocks of blue and white. Then the voice came through in a series of guttural chirps and growls.

“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” Cara muttered. It had been such a long time since she’d heard this language… “Well, Peekpa, the reason I have a lot of nerve calling you on this encrypted line that even your boss doesn’t know about is because you gave the code to me and said to call you anytime I ever needed anything, because you owed me big time for saving your fuzzy little hide. And now I’m calling in the favor.”

Cara listened carefully to the reply, which seemed calmer, while Din stood listening. 

“Well, as you know, my Ewok is a little rusty, but I think you just said that you can’t believe I did something so stupid that I’m wanted in three systems, but that you’d still love to help me out.”

Cara winced at the barrage that returned.

“Okay, so now that you have that off your chest, here’s what I need.” Cara explained the situation carefully, Din nodding encouragement.

Cara listened to the temper tantrum that followed, then sighed with relief as a long series of transmissions came through on the console of the Crest. The visual cut off abruptly.

“Are they all that excitable?” Din asked.

Cara thought a minute as she looked over the data Peepka had sent. “Pretty much, yeah. Very impulsive. And stubborn. But smart.” She clicked a button. “Here’s what we got. She sent us a docking reservation at a secure compound topside, where no one will ask any questions. Very secure, she adds. Landing code, everything. She also sent… She also says she will arrange for me to pick up new papers there in two standard weeks. A code that will not hold up to intense scrutiny, but will get me through routine checkpoints.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Peepka says not to push it, and goodbye. I’m pretty sure that means the debt is paid and I can’t contact her again. But it’s more than I could have even asked for, Din.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't recognize her, Peepka comes from _Last Shot_ , which is a book mostly about Han and Lando, post RoTJ... FYI she is a huge Chewbacca fangirl. :D


	7. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April might be canceled (at least here in the U.S. where I am), but on the first day we can still have a new little chapter...as a treat.

“Well, if it isn’t my old compadre, Drops! And Mando!” Greef shook Cara’s hand and pounded her back. “Well, well. Married yet? Have you come back to Nevarro for the honeymoon? It’s a beautiful spot.” He cooed at Sprout, who only eyed him dispassionately.

Now that Cara was no longer limping, it had seemed like an excellent idea to stop at Nevarro, before heading to Coruscant, to try to sell the carbon freezer for fuel money. But why had she not expected Greef to be so annoying? That was clearly an error in judgment.

“We’re here to make a deal on some equipment we think you’ll be interested in,” Din said, all business. Except the _we._ A little frisson of pride squiggled up Cara’s spine.

“Oh?” Greef indicated the door to his office. “Make yourself comfortable, and we’ll negotiate.”

Din opened the bargaining, but it wasn’t long until Sprout started fussing and squirming to get down. Since Greef’s smirks were getting to her, Cara volunteered to take him out. She decided a hot meal was probably in order for the kid, so they stepped into the cantina.

No sooner had they gotten their order than two humanoids slipped into the booth with her.

“Hello, Enforcer. Back to your old haunt for a bit after you bailed on us?”

“Wimmi, Crofix. Nice to see you. Well, Crofix, anyway. What happened to you, Wimmi? You were ugly before, but this is bad.” 

He grinned. His right ear was missing and the better part of the top half of the right side of his face had been severely scarred, but Wimmi was carrying it off in high style with a jeweled eyepatch and leather headband. “Never more attractive.”

“R-87N refraction ordnance?” Cara asked, arching an eyebrow.

Wimmi nodded, still grinning. Two of his front teeth were silver now. “Yeah. But you should see what _it_ looked like afterward.”

“I can see what _you’ve_ been up to,” Crofix said, nodding at the baby. “I just want to know: exactly how big were its father’s…ears?”

Cara snorted. “I could never produce something this cute.” Especially since that booby trap at the observatory had sterilized every last one of the droppers in her unit. “I’m just watching him for a bit.”

“Didn’t have you pegged as a nanny, Enforcer,” Wimmi said. 

After an amicable exchange of swearing and insults (Cara hoped Din never found out Sprout heard it), Crofix lowered her voice. “Hey, did you see the guy with the boss? Greef told us he was absolutely trustworthy and we didn’t need to hang around. But rumor says he’s the one who shot this place up last year taking a quarry away from the Imps. A _Mandalorian._ And he’s _beautiful._ I was going to run in there and throw myself at his feet and beg him to take me with him, but Wimmi held me back.”

Wimmi guffawed. “Yeah, like that would have stopped you.”

Crofix elbowed him, not gently. “You looked pretty starry-eyed yourself.”

“That armor is shiny, and I like shiny.” Wimmi showed his silver teeth. Sprout was eyeing him with fascination, and Cara had to remind him to eat.

Before Crofix could go into too much more detail about the things she would be willing to do to acquire the Mandalorian, Greef and Din walked into the room and came straight to their table.

“Well, Drops, your man here drives a hard bargain. I think you both will be happy with the deal.”

Crofix and Wimmi had been sitting with their jaws hanging open, but Wimmi recovered enough to hiss out of the good corner of his mouth, “This explains _everything,_ Enforcer.”

Crofix only eyed Cara warily, muttering “kriff” every few seconds.

Din had picked Sprout up and now gave Cara’s companions a polite nod, even as she scrambled out of the booth without introducing them. “You two got the tab?” she asked her ex-colleagues.

“No, no,” Greef gushed, ushering Cara and Din toward the door. “Everything’s on me. I love to see a happy ending. I’m a romantic at heart.” He went on in this vein until they were out on the street, where he wished them an effusive goodbye.

“That is a very big grin you are wearing, Cara,” Din commented as they walked toward the Crest. 

“Well, all I can say is I love to gloat over a good deal, Mando.”

It had been worth all Greef’s smirks and innuendo. They had enough money for a half a year of adventuring, by Cara’s estimation. And a shower in place of a carbon freezer was an excellent exchange.

Cara settled the child in his seat, then took her own as the _Crest_ lifted off. “Din, do you really think you won’t ever go back to bounty hunting?”

He finished pressing buttons and levers and swiveled his chair to face her. 

“The child is over fifty years old, Cara. Did I ever tell you that? He’s older than I am. I don’t know if his development will accelerate, but if I don’t find his people, I’m probably his father for life. For all _my_ life. I may never see him reach independence. Being a father, or finding his, is my job now, indefinitely.”

Cara nodded, sobered.

Din tilted his head toward the necklace the baby was chewing on.

“I was…glad to see he had this on when I got him back to the _Crest_ that day on Nevarro, Cara. With all that happened when I was hurt, it wouldn’t have been surprising if it got lost. Thank you for giving it to him.”

“Oh. Well, when we woke up, he was pretty upset that you weren’t there, so I put that around his neck and tucked it in to quiet him down. It must have smelled like you or something.” She wrinkled her nose and grinned at him.

Din tilted his head but said nothing. Like he knew she wasn’t telling him she had barely been holding herself together in that tunnel when she thought he was gone.

“It all worked out since you came along later anyway,” she said. “Do you remember any of that? You seemed pretty out of it.”

“It’s fuzzy. I do remember you helped me, Cara. Again.”

“It’s your fault for being so agreeable,” Cara said, keeping her eyes on the child as she gently pulled the necklace away from his hand and fed him a dessert of chopped-up berries she’d slipped off the table in the cantina. “If you’d act like a sleemo more often, I could fight you instead.”

He made a scoffing noise. “Well, I could use some practice sparring, or maybe wrestling these days. You could help and fight at the same time.”

“You know where to find me,” Cara said.


	8. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

Cara’s nerves were on the stretch as they came out of hyperspace. Coruscant loomed in front of them, a round mass of structured chaos. She envied the calm that Din answered the com with, how he requested their top-secret landing pad as if he’d done it a hundred times. It took a little longer than normal time to get cleared, and she was biting the inside of her cheek until the voice came back on the com. Then she was biting her lip as Din maneuvered the _Crest_ into the mess that was Coruscant air traffic. Then she was biting her fingernails as below them a sphincter door on top of a nondescript duracrete building opened to reveal a gleaming, pristine metal hangar. Din gently sank them inside and powered the _Crest_ down. He swiveled the chair and stood up. “Breathe, Cara.”

“I am breathing,” she said grumpily, after taking a breath.

“I’ll go out and see about those papers and whatever else your friend left for us. Shouldn’t take long.”

It didn’t. The hangar had appeared to be deserted, Din reported, but there was a receptacle that had opened as he approached, containing Cara’s ID, a set of handheld coms, a tracker, and a schematic of the city. He soon pinpointed the location of the old Jedi Temple and laid his plans to investigate. 

“Din, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Cara said, holding Little Magic as he wailed for his dad. It must have been pretty obvious to him that Din was leaving as he shouldered the pack he’d need for an overnight sojourn. He was leaving his jetpack behind.

“I have to go,” Din said, rechecking his vambraces.

Cara clamped her mouth shut as she jiggled the child. Jiggling didn’t help. He wanted his dad.

Din pushed the button to let down the ramp, and Cara handed him the com.

“Okay,” he said, raising his voice above the crying. “I’ll check in by nightfall, and I’ll keep the tracker activated.”

“All right,” she said. It wasn’t all right, not at all, but it was no use saying so. Din Djarin was fulfilling his duty to his Creed, and nothing short of death would stop him in this mood. 

He turned at the door. “Remember, don’t leave the ship,” he said.

“Only in an emergency,” Cara said, giving him a stony look. If he tried to argue with that, he’d be sorry.

He didn’t, merely stood still for a moment before giving them a nod goodbye. Cara pushed the button to close the door as soon as he was off the ramp. He didn’t look back.

The baby raised the level of his wails. “I don’t blame you, buddy,” Cara said, taking him into the tiny shower room and running a little bath for him in the hopes of distracting him. He did fall back to whimpering, but he was definitely not comforted, not even when she threw in the little floating chew frog she’d bought for just such a moment. He nibbled it disconsolately and then ignored it as he splashed halfheartedly. Finally he looked up at her with his huge sad eyes and she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Okay, Squirt,” she said. “C’mere. We need some cuddle time.”

He seemed reassured by her tone and patiently waited while she dried him thoroughly and tucked him into a clean outfit and a blanket. Then she took him up to the cockpit to Din’s chair, set him on her lap, and twirled him for a little while before settling down into a story of a little boy orphaned by war and adopted into a warrior family… Cara filled in the details of the Fighting Corps from her imagination, but Sprout didn’t seem to mind, looking up at her with his fathomless dark eyes with silent interest until his eyelids drooped and closed. She laid him gently in his seat and sat down in Din’s. 

This ship really seemed empty without Din’s presence, like he was the life force that kept it intact. She bet if she tried to fire up the engines to fly out of here, it wouldn’t start out of sheer loneliness.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, since she’d have a lot of keeping up with Sprout to do when he woke. But all she could think of was how anxious she felt for Din. And that couldn’t be rational.

She knew she should be doing something useful—for example, the holo projector kept cutting out and needed a new contact on the power switch. She knew the part was somewhere and she could probably replace it, but…she felt like her fingers would fumble it. She certainly was having trouble keeping her mind from jumping around erratically.

She climbed down the ladder and made a hot bowl of grain and mush for the midday meal, the smell of which brought Sprout straight down to investigate. They ate together, but he kept looking up at her uncertainly. When he finished, he mewled at her, and she forced a smile. 

She lifted him down to play on the floor. Cara regretted the bath because it would be great fun for him to explore the cargo area…except that he’d get filthy. Better keep him in the inhabited areas. They sat at the table and played dice (was he learning to count?) until they ended up in Sprout’s mouth. He seemed a little anxious and clingy—no doubt catching her mood—so together they watched a holo (despite the wonky switch) about engine repair, which looked like it dated from before the Clone Wars. Sprout thought it was pretty interesting though, so Cara sat through it with him.

Eventually they ate an evening meal. Cara kept her eye on the faint light filtering in through the high windows. Din had better check in soon.

After they ate, Cara turned on the tracker in the cockpit. There was his blip. She noted the location, not seeming to move. Hmm. She wondered what he was up to. She cross-checked the location against the old Jedi Temple. It was pretty close, so maybe he was getting some information from someone. It better be worth not checking in right away. It would be fully dark by now outside the hangar.

The baby crawled up onto the console to get his silver ball, and she didn’t stop him. The bad feeling settled into her stomach, and as she watched, the blip on the screen disappeared.

Cara remembered to breathe. Then she turned off the tracker monitor and turned it back on. No blip. Nothing. She breathed again. Could he have turned it off? She flipped the com on, prepared to yell…then remembered the sound could put him in danger. 

“Mando?” she whispered into the com.

Nothing. Not even static.

Fear—a new kind of fear she hadn’t known before—felt like a band around her lungs. She took short, shallow breaths and tried to clear her mind. 

She finally was able to look down to find the child with his hand on her leg, looking up at her, seemingly with concern. 

“Well, Squirt,” she said, “looks like we’re going out after all.”

She could really have used that datapad or even the schematic now. As it was, she had to commit the last known location to memory, as well as a way to get there, based only on the tracking data. Then she picked up Sprout and let him browse with her in the weapons closet. The Brenny, certainly. A hand blaster for her holster. And perhaps the dart gun the poor old Ugnaught had left behind, conveniently with a couple of darts. Those would be less likely to draw eyes when used…and eyes on her she definitely did not need.

She packed a canteen of water, a medpac, a few loose credits, her fake code card from Peepka, and some food. She didn’t know what else she could carry, other than the com and a light, if she had the baby strapped to her. She loaded him and his blanket into the carrier, strapped it on, and wrapped the cloak around herself and the child. 

“If ever we needed your magic, little man, now’s the time,” she told him. “Let’s go.”


	9. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

Coruscant was a nightmare at night. Though it was not as dark as some places that didn’t have storefronts and streetlights, it was infinitely more confusing. Cara kept her hood well over her face, which did in fact limit her sight, but her other senses seemed more alert because of it. She knew a young Sullustan in a hood followed her for several blocks, but since she was alone, she seemed to decide Cara was too difficult a prey. She got a few sidelong glances from passersby, but shady figures must have been part and parcel of a Coruscant night, even topside.

She did get lost once, and stopped to gather herself while Sprout grew restless. Once she’d retraced her steps and got back on the path she’d laid out in her mind, the child grew calmer and watched from his carrier with his ears pricked.

Once they approached the area Cara guessed the tracker had last indicated, she made a reconnaissance of the buildings. Unfortunately, nothing stirred. She picked the building she’d use if she were going to do something nefarious (which droppers always did) and took note of the entrances and windows.

Okay, this one first. She’d try every kriffing building on the block if she had to. 

It wasn’t the first warehouse, but the second. She found not uniformed and bored security on patrol, but bona fide guards who looked like they meant business at the entrances. She found her way into a window, baby and all, and there were more armed guards of the mercenary type at the stairwell. She made quick work of them, but their very presence was enough to indicate this was a likely place to find Din.

Down two levels, in a large open space on a basement floor, faint light showed. Cara crept closer, and the child was utterly silent, as if he knew what was at stake. A group was gathered around a victim who was chained up to a durasteel girder by manacles. There were only three here that she could see, one a huge Devaronian. One was a female humanoid—looked like a Twi’lek. Cara had taken out one person at the door, and she wondered how many more were elsewhere in the building. 

The victim was Din. She could hear his grunts and growls as the blows hit him, swinging from the chains with each blow. The Twi’lek, she could see, was a connoisseur of knives, and she knew how to use them.

Cara felt the old feral rage rising up, and she summoned all her willpower to keep calm. To think critically. All she wanted to was throw herself in front of Din and protect him with every drop of life left in her body. But especially with that Devaronian there, she had to _think._

She raised the Ugnaught’s gun and loaded one of his tranquilizer darts into the chamber. Taking a deep breath to steady her hands (the shaking was new), she took aim for the back of the Devaronian’s neck. One shot was all she’d get before they were on her. 

She squeezed the trigger. 

Even as the gun kicked she was throwing it down. She couldn’t carry that and the baby and still use the Brenny. The big guy with the horns was down, but the Twi had disappeared. Great. Now she had to worry about the baby getting a knife from the shadows, as well as herself. Next time she could spare a glance, she saw that Din had the bald guy’s head in a thigh lock which was likely not going to end well for Din but would at least keep Baldy out of commission until she got there. 

“Look out!” Din called, and Cara ducked as a knife whistled past her ear. Kriff, that was close. Too close to Sprout too. She spun and shot, and watched a spot of red bloom in the Twi’s thigh. She kept coming though, and Cara charged.

“Cara, the baby!” Din yelled. She could tell he was just about at the end of whatever strength he had left. What had they done to him? His helmet and his armor were all still intact, but from what she could make out, his base clothing was sliced to ribbons in spots. And blood-stained.

The knife hit her shoulder armor and deflected, and then Cara was on the woman. One punch and she went down with a bloody mouth, and the next Cara had her pinned. She extracted Little Magic, who seemed afraid of the Twi.

“You must be his latest,” said the Twi through the blood as Cara jerked her to her feet.

“Shut up,” Cara said.

“Did he get you with his strong, silent technique? That’s how he does it, isn’t it? And then”—the Twi’lek giggled, her fangs grotesque with blood—“then he tells you ‘This is the way’ as if you weren’t even a _bug._ Not worthy of him. But I know better.” She giggled again. “Have you gotten under the helmet? Under the armor? I—” This time a shortened cross to her nose silenced her.

She looked down at the child, who was looking up at her wide-eyed. He gurgled.

“No, sadly, I can’t patch her up. Gotta check on your dad.”

Din had, somehow, left Baldy unconscious. (She should have known better than to underestimate him.) He’d managed to extract one of his wrists from the metal, but the other was still fastened. A vibroknife she found on Baldy cut through the cuff quickly, but as soon as he was released, he collapsed. 

“Din!” Cara fell to her knees beside him. 

“They worked me over…pretty good,” Din rasped. “We have to…to get out of here. More coming.”

“Okay,” Cara said, looking around for the child. There he was, beside Din, with this little clawed hand on his shoulder. His eyes were closing… Cara held her breath. He was going into magic mode. 

It was over in a few seconds. The baby slowly plunked down onto his bottom, and Din stood and snatched him up. Cara slipped Din her hand blaster and hoisted her Brenny, then led the way out, staying low. They saw only a couple of guards standing watch by the outer doors on the other side of the building, but they were easy enough for the two of them to handle.

When they emerged out onto the main street a few minutes later, Cara groaned. “Din? Do you know where we are?”

He looked at her. “I thought you’d know. I was _unconscious._ ”

“Well,” she said, shifting the gun strap, “we better keep moving.” Once she had seen Din chained up, the way back had completely gone out of her head. 

An icy wind hit them in the face as they turned the corner. Cara handed Din the baby’s blanket and he swaddled him into it.

“Thank you, Cara,” he said, pulling the blanket away from the baby’s tiny nose. He looked at her. “For coming for me.”

She wished she could look him in the eye, but she settled for his helmet. “Hey. I won’t leave you, remember?”


	10. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

“You’ve really sheltered in worse places?” Din asked as they huddled back to back on the pavement under the open lid of the trash bin propped against the wall of a building. 

Though it released a disgusting smell, it protected them from the worst of the sleet storm. Still, it was pretty frigid. At least when this storm was over and light returned, they could ask their way back to the right area of the city to find the _Crest._

“Yes. You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Din said, sounding cranky. 

Fair enough. She was motherhenning him. (Who would have thought Cara Dune would come to this?) But he hadn’t even been able to stand when she found him, and who knew how thorough this magic healing was? Just because Greef had been fine didn’t mean that Sprout had mastered medicine. Well, Din was a big boy and he could speak up if he needed to.

When her teeth started chattering an hour later, despite her cloak, Din shifted and held his arm out. “Come here.” The baby was already snuggled into his other side. “You too, Cara.” She only hesitated a second before she turned and slid in under the shelter of his arm. Instantly she felt the warmth of his body, in spite of the cool of the beskar. Then his cape came around them all. Cara closed her eyes. She could feel the thump of his heart. She didn't know what to do with her arms, so she wrapped them around him.

Much better.

She wasn’t sure if she dozed, but the sound of his voice, though it was quiet, startled her. “What are we going to do with this child, Cara?”

“What do you mean?” she whispered.

“What are we teaching him? Shouldn’t babies be at home playing? Eating regular meals? Napping? Ours only sees killing. Violence. He lives on a spaceship. Cara, he’s already murdered someone.”

She lifted her head. “Murder? Saving five people from an incinerator trooper? If that’s murder, everyone should join in.”

“You know what I mean, Cara. What kind of life is this?”

“I don’t know. But you tried to change it for him, remember? And it didn’t work. We don’t control the galaxy. You’re doing the very best you can with what you’ve been dealt. He’s with someone who loves him and keeps him safe. Din, that’s _everything_ to a child.”

His was silent but his arm tightened. 

“Two someones.”

“What?”

“Two someones who love him and keep him safe.”

She laid her cheek against his shoulder. She didn’t argue, but she was pretty sure what she felt for the kid didn’t hold a candle to what he felt.

“Who were those people who captured you?” Cara asked later. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. She knew Din was awake because his heart seemed to have sped up as she snuggled closer. The slashes in his underarmor worried her. She could feel a dozen of them just from where her cheek and hands touched him. It had been too dark to see how much blood he’d lost, but the fabric in each spot was stiff with blood. “What was their plan—cut you up for the first act, then collect your beskar for the big finale?”

“So they kept telling me. Final act was going to be seeing my face.” He shifted the baby slightly. “Believe it or not, they’re part of a gang I used to run with.”

He was understating it, as he always did, but Cara knew what it would have meant to him if the helmet came off. 

If they had forced him to show his face, Cara would not have been merciful. And that was an understatement too.

Cara swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you do bounty hunting?”

“Sometimes. We did other mercenary work too. I think it was sheer luck that they found me yesterday—they didn’t seem to have any idea why I was here or who I was with. They thought I just fell into their hands like a gift from the sky, I guess. I wondered if it was wise to leave them alive last time I was with them.” He sighed.

“They seemed pretty…terrible.”

He sighed again. “They are. But I was too.”

“I don’t believe that,” Cara said.

“Cara, I really was.” The tone of his voice told her he was dead serious.

“What happened?” she whispered.

He was silent for so long she wondered if he was refusing to tell her, but eventually he spoke.

“You’ve heard of the practice of taking hostages from a royal family, after you win a coup against them, to prevent the rest of the family from trying to get power back again?”

“Yeah, used to be pretty common,” Cara answered. 

“Well, that happened on Alzoc III. But the new rulers had made the mistake of siding with the wrong side during the Clone Wars, and when rumors started swirling about the fledgling Rebellion having a base nearby, they thought they better come here to the Core and reassure the Emperor that they were very, very loyal. To make sure the old royals didn’t try to get power back while they were gone, the new rulers put the hostages--the former ruler’s young siblings and his wife and children--into the custody of the crime syndicate they were hand-in-glove with. And the crime syndicate hired a band of mercenaries to guard them: Ran, Quin, Xi’an…and me.

“The hostages enjoyed taunting us,” Din said. “They were housed in one of their lake homes, and they were allowed to keep their droids. When they found out I didn’t like them, they would send the droids to harass me. I wasn’t allowed to retaliate…until I could.

“As expected, there was a coup while the current rulers were gone. But what was not expected was that the insurgents defied tradition and left their hostage relatives to face the consequences. 

“The syndicate boss made it clear to the four of us: if we didn’t kill the hostages, the syndicate would kill us.” Din took a breath. “So, we killed the hostages. They were not armed.”

There was a long silence while Cara waited for him to go on, but then she realized that right now, that was all he _could_ say.

“Din,” Cara whispered, “that is not the man I know. You would never do that, not now. You would find another way, a better way, and damn the consequences.” She freed her top hand from where it was encircling him and took his in hers. “The man I know, he is the best… The most…” She was shaken with emotion and could not find the words so instead she kissed his glove and held his hand to her cheek.

She had not done such a sentimental thing since she was a child, and when the silence stretched out, she began to wonder if she’d made a fool of herself again. But Din didn’t try to free his hand. In fact, he began to brush the hair back from her face. Then he traced the outside of her ear with one finger, then stroked her cheek.

Then the lid of the trash bin, propped against the wall, collapsed under the weight of the sleet, and dumped ice all over them.

Din jumped to his feet and examined the baby, who’d escaped the deluge, but began to fuss. Cara brushed the ice off her neck, checked on her Brenny (dry), and strapped it on under her cloak. 

“The worst of the storm is over and it’s almost light anyway,” Cara said. “Let’s go. Can we pay for a cab? We can find a licensed one who’ll know where to go.”

Din shook his head. “They took everything.” He swaddled the baby’s little blanket closely around him, tucking in his ears.

“Okay,” Cara said, pulling her hood up but tying back the sides so the Brenny showed, intimidating. “Let’s go.” As the sun came up, she used her loose credits to buy a caf from a decent-looking shop and ask the proprietor the way to the district they needed. He looked them all over doubtfully but explained how to do it. 

By the time they reached that part of the city, Din recognized their surroundings, but the baby was wailing and they had to stop to feed him from Cara’s pack. 

“I don’t like the Core,” Din said grumpily as the baby tried to squirm out of his arms. Cara had to admit, after the wide-open spaces she’d been frequenting of late, the noise and bustle were nearly overwhelming. She could get used to it again though. Too bad she could never stay.

Cara took the child, pitying Din for not being able to eat. She walked Squirt around the little plaza and sang to him until he settled down. Eventually he even dozed off. Cara returned to where Din was sitting on a discarded crate. 

“So no Jedi to be found anymore, I take it?”

Din sighed. “Lots of Jedi lore here, but how much is myth and how much is true? But there are no living Jedi here anymore. The Temple is sealed off by the NR, since the Emperor took over the temple when he had all the Jedi killed. Supposedly they are still looking for evidence of war crimes.”

Cara raised her eyebrows. “Should we try to break in?”

“For what purpose? If there’s anything left, the place is so huge it would take days to find it. And what’s the point? There’s no one to give the baby to.” 

“Anything about Luke Skywalker?”

“As far as anyone knows, he’s never even been here.”

“No one survived _anywhere_? Not one Jedi?”

Din shook his head. “Not officially, but it’s possible, of course. They were scattered all across the galaxy and some might have escaped if they were warned in time. The NR gave them all amnesty, but none have come forward. There’s only young Luke Skywalker, who sprang up since, and no one knows where he is.”

Little Magic wriggled and Cara bounced him while she stood. “We have to find someone who knows something about him. Even if they just met him, they might know something about Jedi.”

Din sighed again. “The story goes that here the Jedi not only worshipped but lived and trained and studied. They lived like monks, it’s said. The young ones came to live here and train their whole lives.”

Cara frowned. “Yeah, I remember hearing something about them taking little children from their parents.” She looked down at Sprout. “I can see why you’d want to train a child with the power to choke the life out of you.”

Din stood and took the baby into his own arms. “You know he didn’t understand.”

“I know. But…the thought of giving him to a bunch of impersonal monks…”

“We haven’t found any yet. We’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

Cara eyed him but didn’t argue. She knew that when the time came, it was going to break Din’s heart. 

It took them until the sun went down to find the _Crest._ No one asked to see Cara’s code or seemed to recognize her, though a number of people gave them a wide berth, eying Din’s torn and bloody clothes. When at last they closed the ramp of the Crest behind them, she and Din sank to the floor to rest. Sprout was finally allowed down to stretch his legs, but he made a beeline for the cockpit ladder. Cara got to her feet. She honestly had no idea how he managed the climb with his tiny arms and legs, but he had no problems doing it…unless he didn’t want to.

“Din, I got him for a while…” She didn’t add any motherhenning but Din needed to eat and rest.

He hesitated for a minute, then said, “Okay.” Cara watched to make sure he took some food into his room with him.

Cara got out the blank switches Din had made for Sprout, along with a ball and some old engine parts, and laid them on the cockpit floor for him to toddle to. She thought about letting him just climb up and down the ladders to burn off some energy, but if Din found out he would probably stand there hovering (and not sleeping) in case the child fell. Which the kid wouldn’t. But still, better not.

She let her mind wander as she sat on the floor and watched the baby try to jam the parts into the switches. She wondered what her family would think if they could see her now. Still wanted in at least three systems, broke, her career a wreck, the New Republic she had bled for not entirely successful yet…partners with a man who never showed his face and had a reputation as a killer (depending on who you asked), living hand to mouth, and babysitting a small green magic toddler.

She looked up through the window above their heads and imagined the busy lights and traffic of the city streaking by. She let the relief of knowing Din was back safe wash over her. She thought of herself a couple of months ago, slowly killing herself, and couldn’t help but smile at the contrast. Squirt was done with his toys now and climbing all over her…but honestly, she didn’t mind that much. _You know what, Mama?_ she thought, amused at the idea of what her parents would have thought about Din Djarin. _As long as I’m with him, I just don’t care._ Her pacifist father wouldn’t have approved of any Mandalorian, and her socialite mother wouldn’t have approved of his lifestyle, but she thought they might like the man himself. All five of her brothers would have liked him. He could take any one of them, just as Cara could when she was grown—and maybe all five together. She and Mando could certainly do it as a team. 

Despite the stab of pain she got whenever she thought of her lost home and the pitiful compensation the NR had tried to make for her people, contentment washed over her. As long as she didn’t think about the kid on Chandrila, or the look of surprise on his face as he died, she would be all right. However shallow the contentment was or however fleeting (and she knew it couldn’t last, though she’d do everything she could to keep it), she’d take it. She let her eyelids droop, even as the baby did, now nestled on her shoulder in her hair.

She didn’t wake suddenly, but gradually she became aware that she was sitting on the floor of the cockpit, slouched against the side console. She looked up, and there was Din Djarin in the captain’s chair. The blue streaks of hyperspace went by instead of the incessant traffic of Coruscant.

Din turned and looked down at her, as if sensing she was conscious. He had changed out of his bloody clothes. “Did he give you any hassle?” Din whispered.

“No,” she whispered back.

He paused for a few moments before saying, “You had a smile on your face.”

She chuckled. “Yeah. I was thinking about my family—and my trousseau.”

He tilted his head. “What’s a trousseau?”

She shrugged, but slightly so as not to wake the baby. “It’s girly. My mother had for so long dreamed that I’d be some kind of debutante or society queen or something. Maybe be an opera star or make a fabulous and advantageous marriage. Even after I turned out to be this size and discovered my penchant for weaponry, she was still building my trousseau.” 

“You’re a good singer,” he observed.

She felt absurdly pleased that he’d been listening when she soothed Little Magic.

“Was all your family killed when the Death Star came?”

“Yes. All of them. My parents, my five brothers, their spouses, their kids, my aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends. All of them.”

Din was silent, as if paying his respects.

“I was off planet, finishing up my training. Or at least, all the training I thought I’d get at the time. I’d decided to join the Rebellion as a soldier. Everyone had tried to talk me out of it. My father disapproved of me joining up. He said nonresistance was the only way to bring peace to the galaxy. My mother, she loved me, even if she never understood me. My father too. He said…he said I’d die in this guerilla war, and no parent should have to mourn their child. But Mando, he kissed me goodbye went I went off planet, and told me he loved me.”

She sighed. “I know they just wanted to protect me, but…”

They were both silent for a little while before she ventured, “Do you remember your real parents? Before they were killed?”

“Yeah.”

“They were good ones?”

“Yes.” She could almost hear him smile. “Like your parents, Cara, they loved me and kept me safe, and since I was small, it felt like everything I needed.”

“You know I’m always right,” she said.

He gave a little huff of laughter before he went on, slowly. “They were good to me. Laughter. Plenty. I don’t remember much else. Just a kind of haze of happiness. Then the war. I was eight years old. The droids came, big Super Battle Droids. People were literally dying left and right. My parents put me in a bunker. To this day, Cara, I don’t know why they didn’t climb in with me. But they were killed almost immediately afterwards. And then the Mandalorians rescued me.”

She nodded.

But once again, that was all he had to say. Cara was very curious about his Mandalorian upbringing, but she felt he had probably used up most of his words for the day—and it had been a long one—so she didn’t press him. She still wasn’t convinced he was really healed from his encounter with his old gang.

“Here, let me take him so you can go sleep,” Din said, getting up and crossing the two feet between them. She reached up to disentangle the baby. His gloves brushed her bare hands, quite deliberately, she thought, before he picked the child up. She glanced up at him, and he was looking down, but was he looking at her face? 

Cara scolded herself as she stood, her heart pounding. This was…this was dangerous for her well-being. She couldn’t entertain crazy dreams or let her guard down. Ever. Just because they had used the words “kiss” and “love” in a conversation was no reason to get soft. She was off-limits for a man of integrity. It was time to go down the ladder and shut herself away in her room alone.


	11. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

It was laundry and mending day aboard the _Crest_. They had landed on this planet in this spot before, in the clearing of a pristine forest with a stream running nearby. Cara had done the laundry, thigh-deep in the stream, while Din did the mending (he had a lot after Coruscant) on the ramp of the _Crest_ , keeping an eye on Sprout as he toddled in the grass.

Finally everything was strewn across bushes and branches to dry in the sun, and Cara plodded back to the _Crest_ to take off her wet boots. She took a spot next to Din and angled the boots into a pool of sunlight.

She said nothing as they watched Squirt discover rolling, managing to get himself thoroughly coated in dirt and pine needles. Oh well. They’d just dunk him in the stream later.

“We should get him some more clothes,” said Din. Wasn’t it only a few months ago that Cara had broached this idea to him, and he had seemed surprised? 

“I got some fabric a while ago, remember? We can try to sew him some.”

Din turned his head to look at her. “Do you know how to make clothes?”

Cara shrugged. “I did at one time. Part of my ‘girl training’ growing up. I can try to remember if you’ll help me. It’s going to take forever though.” Mostly because the actual making of clothes had been skimmed over in favor of design and fine embellishments like embroidery. And Cara had skimmed over it all in favor of fighting with her brothers.

“Okay, let’s try it once we’re done here.”

Cara eyed him. They’d pooled their chores, so Din was now sewing up a pair of her underwear. She’d been rather hoping to rattle him a bit with that, but it was hard to tell with that kriffing helmet. Of course, she’d just finished washing everyone’s underwear (now she knew what Din wore under his underarmor), and once she’d done dirty laundry, underwear was underwear and not provocative as far as she was concerned.

“Mandalorians seem to be pretty good with a needle,” she observed. “Or is that just you?”

“We learn what we have to to survive,” Din said. 

“So tell me more about your traditions,” Cara said, eyes on the child, who was apparently trying to catch an insect for a snack.

Din didn’t reply until Cara turned to see why he was silent. “You really want to know?”

“Well, I asked, didn’t I?” She was curious, but she was a little wary of what all she’d hear.

He tilted his head at her. “I can tell you about the domestic life of Mandalorians.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Mandalorians have a domestic life?”

“We do. It includes sewing”—he flourished his needle—“cooking, cleaning, laundry, weapon sharpening, armor repair…”

“Armor repair?” she grinned. “How about childcare?” She pointed with her chin as the child found a mudhole and proceeded to wallow. 

Din started to jump up, but Cara put a hand on his arm. “What’s it hurting? We’ll just wash him up later. He’s as happy as can be.” In fact, the kid was giggling with glee.

Din looked at the child and sighed, then went back to sewing the rip in Cara’s skivvies. 

“So Mandalorians have a normal family life, when they’re not holed up in the sewers?” Cara asked.

“They used to,” Din said. “Now, the chances of survival are small, and though we need to keep our numbers up, it takes a toll on warriors to marry and then lose a partner. And on children, to lose a parent. Or parents.”

Cara sighed. “Yeah.”

“So there’s not a lot of marrying,” Din concluded, “but we still can.” 

“Makes sense,” Cara said. “But foundlings…they’re a priority?”

Din nodded as the child came toddling back, caked in brown goo. “There are so many lost children in the galaxy….” He put down the mending, stood, picked the child up with two fingers of each hand, and held him away from his body as he took him toward the stream.

Quietly, Cara got up and ran over to the mud hole and grabbed a handful of the stuff, then threw it. She listened with satisfaction as it made a lovely splat on the back of Din’s once-sparkling helmet.

Din stopped, put the child down, and turned to Cara.

“I’m going to make you pay for that.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try,” Cara taunted, aiming two successive handfuls onto his visor before he charged, with Squirt squealing after as fast as his little legs would carry him. Cara managed to get one more good pelt in before Din jumped into the mudhole too and mud started flying. Cara picked the baby up and let him cling to her hair, giggling, while the fight ensued.

At last most of the mud from the hole was plastered over the three of them, and Cara collapsed near the edge of the grass. “I think we’re pretty much covered,” she said to Din.

He approached her steadily, then came to a halt in front of her, brought his hand from behind his back, and smeared a last handful over her face.

“Now,” he said, “we are covered.”

Cara grinned. One good leg sweep and she’d have him picking mud out of his teeth for a week, but she liked having him this close. At that moment Sprout walloped his dad with a well-aimed glob, right in the visor. 

“Atta boy, Sprout!” Cara gloated. “We win!”

“Okay, I deserved that,” Din admitted, swiping the T of the visor with his muddy glove.

Cara climbed out of the hole and did an obnoxious little victory dance with the baby, singing about how they had won, before they strutted down to the stream to immerse themselves. They sang there too—a song Cara made up about the deliciousness of frogs—and Sprout squawked and giggled and splashed and generally acted like a perfectly happy (and clean) child should.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” she yelled to Din, who was standing at the edge of the stream watching. She remembered that after the pond on Sorgan, he’d spent a lot of time in the barn, presumably drying his armor and all the weird wiring under it. But it was already wet, so he might as well get in.

Gingerly (she was barefoot) she made her way to the bank. “Jump!” she said, grinning. “I’ll catch you.”

Din huffed and deliberately hopped into the water too far away for her to reach him, but he slipped, and when she went to grab him, she went under too. Her first thought was for poor Sprout, but he was paddling along like he was born to it. Cara came up sputtering with Din’s hand under her armpit, but she assured him she was fine.

“At least that got most of the mud out of your hair,” Din said. 

These boys and their fascination with her hair...

“I better go get some hair soap.”

“It’s okay,” Din said. “Before we leave here, I’ll haul some water up and we can put some fresh stuff in the shower system.”

“It is really nice to be clean,” Cara admitted.

“I know,” Din said. “Hey, the sun’s starting to go down. We should gather up the clean laundry and get this little one fed and in bed.”

“Looks like I have more laundry to do for tomorrow.” Cara grinned. 

“Yeah.”

She snickered at his dry tone and climbed out before toweling herself off and carefully gathering up the dry clothes.

This planet was beautiful, but once night fell, some kind of huge biting insects came out. They made no sounds, but the bites would itch for weeks. Obviously this didn’t affect Din too much, but for herself and Sprout, Cara was sure to have everything inside the _Crest_ and the door sealed up before twilight fell. 

After they ate, she sat cross-legged on the floor with the laundry on a blanket, and folded, while inside Sprout’s room she could hear Din and him “talking” as the little one got ready to sleep. It was sweet, and she didn’t feel as much of a pang today as she usually did hearing it from the outside—probably because she was currently folding up clothing for both of them and putting it in piles (sadly small), and doing domestic chores for them felt a lot like being family.

When things quieted down, Din came out of Sprout’s room, then rummaged around in the storage area until he came out with a chemlight, thread, needles, scissors, and the fabric Cara had bought. “What else do we need to make clothes?”

They dug around some more for supplies, and finally they sat down on the floor with an outfit of Sprout’s as the model. Cara showed him how to outline each section on the fabric with tabs to line up, but she was still fairly fuzzy on how to do armpits and such. Hopefully they’d figure it out. Din sat down beside her with the chalk, and they soon had the pieces cut out and ready to stitch. He didn’t have enough pins, but they made do with some small clamps and extra needles.

“How’s this look?” Cara asked, holding up a tiny sleeve. Din was working on the main body. 

“Looks a little long,” Din said. When had he gotten so close to her? This was miniscule personal space for Din Djarin. 

“Well, it’s going to be cuffed, right? So we can let it out if he grows?” Cara squinted at it. “Or I can just chop off the end and rehem it.”

Din sighed. “I guess we should wait till he wakes and try it on him.”

“Try it on? Good luck. How about you pin him down and I’ll try to get close enough to hold it up to him.”

Din huffed a laugh. “You’re probably right.”

Cara looked at Din’s handiwork. “Wow, your stitches are neat. My mother would be proud of such nice, tiny, even work.” She eyed the sleeve. “I’m not sure how she’d feel about this.”

Din tilted his head at it. “Looks fine to me. The child isn’t going to care about stitches.”

“You’re right, he won’t.” She smiled at him. Kriff, he was close. He was looking at her, and she was looking at him… 

It took a monstrous effort to tear her eyes away from him and keep them on her work. “I think I remember we had to use darts under the arms,” she said somewhat at random. She demonstrated where the triangle would go. “It would let him move his arms a little more than this old outfit does.”

“We can try it,” Din said doubtfully. His arm brushed hers as he turned over the little gown and looked at the armhole.

Cara accidentally stabbed herself in the thumb with her needle and decided maybe it was time to get up and try to cut out a couple of the darts. Or something. Anything to keep her from throwing herself into Din’s arms.

She retreated three feet to where the fabric was laid out on the table and tried to draw the darts, but her hand was unsteady.

“You know,” she said, “I think I’m kind of done with this for tonight.”

He looked up at her for a few seconds and then said, “Okay.”

_He’s not for you, he’s not for you,_ she chanted in her mind like a mantra as she gathered up the supplies. Din folded up the remainder of the fabric and handed it to her. “Thanks.”

“Good night, Cara,” he said.

“Good night,” she said, retreating fast. She could not— _must_ not—mess up this good thing they had going.

  


  


The next day was sunny again, with a soft breeze and puffy white clouds floating lazily overhead. What a beautiful place. Cara worked the mud out of the clothes they’d worn yesterday while Sprout splashed alongside, and Din hauled water to the _Crest. ___

“This place reminds me of Sorgan,” Cara said when she’d finished spreading the clothes out to dry and sat down near Din on the bank of the stream with her back against a tree.

“Yeah,” Din said. He didn’t add anything, and Cara had to wonder if he’d gotten over Omera in the last year. She knew it had never gone beyond hopeless pining, but she knew all too well how powerful hopeless pining could be.

“It’s too bad Squirt doesn’t have any other kids to play with like he did there,” Cara said.

Din tilted his head toward her. “He was playing with a big kid yesterday.”

She nudged him with her foot. “You don’t count.” Though she knew perfectly well he’d meant her antics.

Din gave his huff-laugh and they both watched the baby kicking his feet and splashing.

“I wish we could stay here a while.” It took Cara a second to realize she’d said that out loud.

Din sighed. “Yeah. But I need to find his people.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a bit and then Cara asked, “Are you going to start raising him according to the Creed?”

“I’ll teach him about our traditions,” he said. “But he’s too young to really understand a lot of it. It’s not until he gets closer to coming of age that it becomes so important for him to realize what choices he’ll be making.”

“I’d kind of like to know about the Creed,” Cara said. “Whatever you can tell me, I mean.”

Din turned his head to look at her. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I’d like to understand it all better.” _Well, to understand_ you _better, anyway._

Sprout climbed out of the stream then and Din toweled him dry before Cara helped him get dressed. “All right,” she said to Din as she settled back against the tree with the baby curled up beside her. She pointed out to him a cloud shaped like the _Razor Crest_ (okay, not exactly) before she said to Din, “Let’s hear it.”

____  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be taking a little break for Easter, but I’ll be back soon after that with an update. It will be a very strange holiday this year, but I hope everyone can find peace and rest on that day, whether it’s Easter to you or just another Sunday. Please stay safe, everyone.


	12. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

“Hey!” Cara yelled. She let the satchel she had been considering fall back onto the table in front of the merchant and darted out into the mill of people. “Hey! Leave that kid alone!” 

A little voice inside her head said, _What are you doing? Stay out of this, Cara Dune!_ but the baby in the carrier over her breast now had changed so much in her.

The little girl had been standing howling at the edge of the crowd in the bazaar at Tikaroo on Devaron for about ten minutes now. A child wailing in a market was nothing extraordinary—Sprout could put out a pretty good noise when he set his mind to it, though fortunately he didn’t very often. The problem was that Cara had been watching out of the corner of her eye for a parent to come and talk to the kid, but no one did. And then this sleemo who’d been propping up a wall nearby had decided to come over and grab her arm.

The Duros ignored her and kept dragging the kid, who shrieked even louder.

Cara ran in front of him and got in his face. “Hey. I said, ‘Leave that kid alone.’” Before he could reply, she looked at the girl. “Does this guy belong to you?”

The little human said nothing, only shrank away in fear.

“It’s none of your business, female,” said the Duros.

“Back off the kid, sleemo,” she said, stepping in front of him again as he jerked the child. If this got physical, she’d have to dump Sprout out so he didn’t get hurt—

“What is going on here, _ad’ika_?” came a voice from behind the Duros. Cara stared. Not only was it a real live Mandalorian, but a very, very large one.

The little girl squealed happily as he picked her up from the Duros’s suddenly limp grasp and held her gently against him. “Did anyone harm you?”

She pointed immediately to the Duros—though Cara was also in the line of fire.

“I see,” said the Mando, and put the child down. “Stand back, _ad’ika_ , where you won’t get hurt.”

At that moment Sprout poked his head out of the carrier and cooed.

The Mandalorian stared. “Have I seen you before?”

That was the oldest pickup line in the galaxy, surely. “No, I don’t think so,” Cara said, taking hold of the back of the Duros’s tunic at the neck as he started to edge away. “I think I’d have remembered.” Two could play at this game.

The Mandalorian absently took the Duros from her grasp before he could even protest. He was staring at Sprout, whose Mandalorian pendant was out in the open.

“This is a foundling?” he asked, sudden suspicion in his voice. Cara wondered briefly if he was a hunter too and knew she was wanted, or if she thought she was in league with the Duros. 

“Yes, his father is D— a Mandalorian.” Was she allowed to use Din’s name? Better not, to be safe. “We are…in the same crew, and I am watching the child until he returns.”

The large Mandalorian tilted his head, eerily like Din. 

“Were you part of the covert on Nevarro?” Cara asked hastily.

“Yes,” he said. “What do you know of that?”

“We—the foundling’s father and I—found what was left in the sewers,” Cara said quietly. “I’m sorry. The Armorer…said she thought some of you escaped off world.”

“She was alive?”

“Yes, when last I saw her. But later I found the tunnels cleaned and abandoned. I hope she got off world too.”

The Mandalorian was looking Cara over pretty thoroughly. She wasn’t sure what to think of this since she couldn’t see his eyes. “Is this your foundling?” she asked, nodding to the little girl, who was shyly playing peek-a-boo with Squirt. 

“Yes,” said the Mandalorian. “Would you let yours play with her for a moment while I take care of this scum?”

“Oh, I—” But it was too late. The Mandalorian had frog-marched the Duros around the corner into the alley. Cara let Sprout down to toddle over to the little girl, and they sat down in the dust to play together. Cara didn’t even hear anything, but the Mandalorian came back alone. 

“You…took care of him?”

“Yes,” said the Mandalorian. “I know that kind of filth. Slavers. He won’t be bothering anyone now.”

“Oh.” Cara wondered if a new crime had been added to her record.

“You are all right, _ad’ika_?” the Mandalorian was asking the little girl. She nodded, but she held up her arms to him and he picked her up. 

Sprout squawked at losing his playmate, but Cara dusted him off and picked him up too. When she looked up, the Mandalorian was looking her over thoroughly again. She didn’t think she wanted to scrap with him, but if he was leering at her…

“Can I buy you a drink?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Um…” How did one go about explaining one was madly in love with someone else, who didn’t feel the same and could never, ever know about said mad love? Somehow she’d never quite had to explain that in her life thus far.

“As a thank-you,” he added, nodding at the little girl resting her head against his cuirass.

Cara looked at the position of the sun in the sky. She wasn’t due to meet Din for a little while, and truth be told, she was thirsty. And it was hot.

“Okay,” she said. “ _Just_ as a thank-you though.”

The Mandalorian nodded and turned and led the way to a cool and shady cantina.

This Mandalorian drew eyes the way Din did, but probably also because he was so large. He ordered some soup for his child, then asked Cara what she and the foundling would like. She asked for bone broth for Squirt and a local ale for herself. She didn’t dare ask him any more questions about the covert or anything Mandalorian-related because she actually had been listening to Din talk about the secrecy they normally lived under. She wondered why this Mandalorian wasn’t in hiding here. But she simply sipped her ale—sour, but with a cool and tingly aftertaste—and kept quiet.

“You’re a bounty hunter?” the Mandalorian finally asked.

“No,” she said. She took a breath and took the plunge. “We are searching for this child’s people. It’s more difficult than you might expect.”

The Mandalorian looked at Sprout. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The Imps on Nevarro wanted it pretty bad.”

“He is unique,” she said.

“Yours doesn’t talk yet?”

Cara shook her head.

“Neither does mine,” he said, mussing the girl’s hair. She grinned up at him, showing a missing tooth. She was definitely old enough to talk by human standards, poor thing. Cara wondered what she’d been through.

“Maybe yours and mine could play together sometime?” he asked. Cara choked on her ale and went off into a fit of coughing.

“We’re just passing through,” she finally said. “On our search. For the child’s people. _With the child’s father._ ” She nodded for emphasis. 

“I could use a good crew member. Are you a pilot? My _ad’ika_ would love an adult female to be with.” He tilted his head and looked at Cara. “So would I.”

Whoa. “Thank you, but we are very happy in our crew.” She edged out of the booth with the Brenny and picked up Sprout, who squeaked a protest at being removed from his unfinished broth. “Thank you very much for the drinks, and…and we wish you and your foundling the best.”

He stood as she did and she readied herself for a brawl, but it seemed it was merely some form of politeness, since he nodded once, emphatically, as she finished speaking and stood still as she turned and headed out of the bar and into the sunlight of the market.

And straight into Din. She resisted the impulse to grab his hand and hold it, just for being Din Djarin. Instead she said, “Oh, Mando. We ran into a friend of yours just now.”

He tilted his head. “A friend?”

She nodded. “Another Mandalorian.”

“Here?”

“Yes. He was a really big guy, blueish armor, with one of those eye things on the side of his helmet.”

“Paz?”

She shrugged. “We didn’t exchange names. Which wasn’t a bad thing.”

He looked over at her for several moments but said merely, “I’m glad he survived.”

“You two are friends?”

“Not exactly.”

“He knew about Little Magic.”

“He helped us get out of Nevarro when I snatched him.”

Her heart warmed to this Paz. “He didn’t mention that. He has his own foundling now.”

“Does he? That’s good.”

“He still seemed very lonely,” Cara said, and suddenly she couldn’t help but grin widely. “He wanted a female ‘crew member’ pretty bad.”

“He tried to recruit you for the job?” Din asked in a resigned tone.

Nodding, Cara burst out laughing. 

Din sighed.

Cara was so tempted to pique Din by saying something about the appeal of Paz’s huge physique, but she did not. She had no business trying to make Din jealous when she had no claim on him to begin with.

“Any luck finding your Jedi temple?”

“Yes, but I’ll tell you back on the _Crest_ ,” Din said. “If Paz is here aboveground, I should go. There might be a covert here at stake.”

“It’s the usual story,” Din said, as hyperspace streaks surrounded the _Crest._ He swiveled his chair around to face her seat in the back. Sprout sat looking innocent and spritely in his little chair. “Once a thriving temple, now desecrated, a ruin. No worshipers. Just people scared of ghosts.”

“No information?”

Din sighed. “I bartered with the guides, hinting I was hunting the local game, to get their measure. I picked the oldest and cagiest one. As we went, the whole history of the Temple of Eedit came out. Scavengers, relic hunters, and then some kind of acolyte group led an attack on the place once the NR took over. The only hopeful thing I got out of it was that a woman told me there was a young man there, maybe ten years ago, looking the place over. Rumor has it he had a lightsaber.”

“Luke Skywalker?”

Din shrugged. “Maybe. She wouldn’t tell me his name, but someone else said he was human, light-colored hair. Average size. Does that sound like him?”

Cara nodded. 

“But I got no information about the Jedi, where they are now—nothing.”

“If there were any Jedi hanging around in the market, Little Magic here wasn’t much interested in them,” Cara said. “The most excitement he got was playing with your friend’s foundling. And that was short-lived.”

Din tilted his head. “He didn’t hint that there might be a covert there?”

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. I have been listening, Din, when you’ve told me about the traditions of Mandalorians and the Creed, and the need for secrecy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Din said.

“If there is a covert, Din, can you…go there?”

Din swiveled back around to face the console. “If there is one, yes. But if they have a new provider now, I should stay away unless I’m in dire need.” He paused. “They have sacrificed enough for us.”

Cara remembered the pile of armor in the tunnel in Nevarro. “You would have done the same for them, Din Djarin. In fact, I bet you already have done a lot for them.”

Din said nothing, and Cara let the subject drop. She was wondering how she could transform the root vegetables from the bazaar into something palatable when Din asked, “Would you rather have that job?”

“What?”

“Cara, if there’s ever a job you’d rather… You’re free to change your mind about staying here. You could—could be in a crew with another Mandalorian. Like Paz.”

“Paz? The big guy?” Cara felt a surge of adrenaline at the idea that Din might be a little jealous after all. “Well, I would love the challenge of taking him down on a bet, but nah. You two boys here are the best thing that ever happened to me.” She couldn’t kiss Din, so she planted a big noisy smooch on the baby’s head, flashed her dimples at Din, and went down the ladder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: For more on the Temple of Eedit, see _The Weapon of a Jedi_ \--a middle-grade novel featuring a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed teenage Luke Skywalker.


	13. Part 2: Until Our Paths Cross

“So when are we doing this wrestling you talked about, Mando?” Cara asked. Din had been doing chin-ups (helmet-ups?) in the hold when she came out of her room (unfortunately he seemed to be done with them, so she couldn’t watch). She realized she hadn’t been working nearly as hard as he had while they were stuck in the _Crest._

Din was now rolling up some of the netting that had come free, facing away from her. “I…don’t really want to do that.”

“What?” Cara asked, stung. “Why?”

He didn’t answer for a while, just kept rolling. Finally he said, “It wouldn’t be sparring to me.”

She put her hands on her hips. “You said—”

“I know what I said,” he snapped. Then he sighed. “It just…it wouldn’t be helpful.”

“Oh, well excuse me if I don’t meet your high and mighty Mandalorian standards,” Cara said.

“It isn’t that. It’s…” He turned to face her. “It’s not that, Cara.”

She raised her eyebrows. “What is it then? Because from where I’m standing right now, you’re looking like a real sleemo.”

He was very still. “Well, maybe I am.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. He just turned and climbed up into the cockpit.

She used the bar he’d abandoned and did a couple dozen chin-ups, just to spite him. She was still mad, so she climbed up and hooked her feet into it and did some body curls. She couldn’t manage as many of those, so she was obviously losing ground. She’d have to work on that.

Then she went into the cold cargo hold and dug out some old holey canvas, twine, some insulation layers, industrial tape, and a few old parts and set about making a project. Little Magic appeared out of nowhere and watched her with his ears pricked and eyes wide.

It took her a couple of hours, during which Din did not come down, before she laced up the punching bag, hung it, and tested it out. It worked pretty well. She put Sprout in his chair. She’d have to keep an eye on him so he didn’t get hurt. She put on her knuckle guards and got started.

_Jab-jab, head feint, cross. Cross, kick, whirl. Jab-jab. Feint, feint, block._

“That’s impressive,” Din said from behind her.

“Yeah. I’m pretending it’s you.” _Round kick, jab. Keep the feet moving._

“I thought we were friends, Cara.” She couldn’t read his tone of voice this time.

“We are. That’s why I’m punching this instead of you, Mando.” Breathing hard, she stopped and looked at him from beside it. He was holding the baby now, who was still looking fascinated.

He tilted his head. “I hope you’re going to keep that thing around then.”

“I’m not leaving, so I guess I better,” she said.

The silence stretched out.

“Cara?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re…with me.”

“I am too. Most of the time.” She gave the bag a random uppercut. She didn’t know what was going on with the undercurrents here today, but it left her unsettled. Like on Sorgan. She definitely did not like _unsettled._

She sat on her cot and brooded for quite some time after that, until she smelled whatever Din was serving up for supper. It was some kind of meat stew, which was a rarity these days.

“This is really good,” Cara admitted with her mouth full. She had come out to sit at the table, where Din set a bowl before her while the child trilled at her. 

“It’s a peace offering.”

“Hmm,” Cara said. Sprout came and patted her leg, wanting up in her lap, so she picked him up and fed him too. 

“Cara, I…really can’t explain,” Din said. He was looking down at the stew.

“Okay, look, Din. I want you to be honest with me, all right? Even if you can’t explain. I’ll try not to be mad if you’re honest, and I’ll try to be honest back. Mostly,” she added hastily, because of course there were things about her that he was not going to find out if she could help it. Another one of those strong waves of emotion rammed into her at the thought of not being with him, followed by an undertow that threatened to suck the ground out from under her. It was all she could do to keep eating as if everything was normal.

Sprout was looking up at her anxiously, so she stuck a big spoonful of stew in his mouth to keep him busy.

Cara cleaned up the dishes while Din went away to eat, and then she and Din put in a couple of straps to hold the punching bag up against the ceiling when it wasn’t in use. She didn’t say much, because truth be told, working together with him side by side was one of the things she loved best in the galaxy. She didn’t want to say anything to ruin it.

“This is where the calculations are important,” Din said, continuing the piloting lesson. “If you don’t account for the differentiation, when you enter hyperspace, there is a short period of turbu—”

But Cara had already punched the button. Immediately the _Crest_ bucked and trembled, and Cara stumbled backward onto Din’s lap.

“—lence,” Din finished. “Though it doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”

Cara was about to scramble to her feet, but this flirtatious stranger was intriguing. The _Crest_ jerked violently, and Cara grabbed Din’s vambraces to keep from landing on the floor. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“How do we get out of the turbulence?”

“We just ride it out,” Din said. Cara didn’t dare to turn to look at him, but this was definitely not the Din she knew. 

“It will resolve itself eventually,” he went on. “We can take it.”

One more lurch sent her back against Din’s chest and then propelled her toward the console. She managed to grab it and land on her feet at the same moment she heard Little Magic wail down below.

“I better get him,” she mumbled. “Thanks for the…lesson.”

“Come back anytime,” Din said.

He was probably smiling, damn him.

But then, by the time she had gone down and extracted Sprout from where he was stuck among the maze of pipes in the fresher, she was too. Din had _definitely_ been flirting.

And—that was not good. _Be careful, Cara Dune,_ she told herself as she held the scared little baby close. Did she really think a man of honor and a woman like her…? 

No. She had to remember that. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Friends. Brothers in arms. Nothing more.


	14. Part 3: Repairs

“Remember when I was telling you about the family customs of the Mandalorians?” Din asked, startling Cara out of her reverie. They needed supplies again soon, and the list in her head was growing by the minute. After the _Crest_ ’s needs came soap, and then bread and dried veg, then probably more munitions, if there were any credits left. She’d check their stockpile. 

Din’s voice was muffled, since he was jammed in under the console in the cockpit of the _Crest._ “Welding torch. The big one,” he added. From where she sat on the floor, Cara picked up the larger one and handed it to the disembodied arm that extended from the panel. 

"Yeah,” she said, wrenching her brain back to his question. “Not many get married because the chances of survival are so small and the emotional collateral is so high?”

“Uh-huh.” She heard the crackle of the welding wand.

Okaaaay. She should really go check on Sprout. He was being way too quiet, and that _always_ meant trouble.

Din himself appeared from under the panel, reached up and pressed a button, and watched as it lit up, then faded. He sighed before turning to face Cara. “And remember I said they can marry one not sworn to the Creed as long as the partner understands the risks, and agrees to raise their children according to the Creed?”

“Okay,” she said. She did remember that, and a lot about secrecy and loyalty and honor…

“It’s simple, really. You say, ‘You are my husband’ three times, and I say, ‘You are my wife’ three times.”

That was odd wording. “That’s it? Sounds a little…” 

“It was designed for desperate times,” Din said. “This is the way.”

All right then. This was a strange conversation, even for--

Din stood up, fumbled the welding torch and dropped it on his toes, swore, and then said, “Cara, you are my wife.”

“What?... _What!?_ Din Djarin, are you…? This is _not_ funny.”

He was looking at her, not moving, in that incredibly still way he had. “All you have to do is say, ‘Din, you are my husband.’”

“What? No! No, I am not—I am _not_ saying, ‘Din, you are my husband.’ This is _not_ how… No!”

He tilted his head.

Cara scrambled to her feet, suddenly furious. “Din, really? _Really?”_ She paced the cockpit before she turned to face him. “Look, you know I--I care about you, I-- And I’ve never had anyone I trust like you. But ‘Din, you are my husband’? You don’t understand what you’re asking.” She hated the way her voice caught. 

“I think I do, Cara. You know how I feel about you. I want you to be my wife.”

She slammed her fist down on the top of his chair. The metal made a satisfying clang as her vambrace met it. “No, I do not know how you feel. Are you so sure you do? Why are you complicating this? Don’t you understand? Why can’t we just—”

“Cara, listen to me. You’re someone I trust. Deeply. And I want to be with you always. I’ve thought about this ever since… I can’t just _pretend._ ”

She felt tears rising and it fueled her anger. “You don’t really know anything about me, Mando. You don’t. I’m rotten at honor, and I’m not a good… Stop it, okay? You’re ruining everything.”

“I know all about that kid on Chandrila.”

She froze. 

“I know that you can’t forget that you killed him. And you know that I-- You know about Alzoc III. We’ve both done things we are not proud of. Ugly things. We have blood on our hands. And things were done to us too. We lost everything. Our lives, they’ve been hard.”

He took a step closer. “But Cara, it’s time to look those things in the eye, give them a nod, and say goodbye to them."

“That…doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m saying we can face them together.”

Cara was glad for the chair at her back. She gripped it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mando. And besides, you’re a clan of-of _two,_ remember?”

He took another step closer. “You are my wife, Cara.”

She clenched her fists. “I am _not_ saying ‘You are my husband,’ Din Djarin.”

He just tilted his head. 

“And how _dare_ you just spring this on me, like it’s not a big thing and we can just decide to commit our entire lives together on the spur of the moment, and you didn’t even ask me, you’re like, ‘Cara, say “You are my husband”! It’s magic! We’re like Jedi! It makes everything fine and perfect and you didn’t really kill a child or bomb that _entire_ settlement or ditch your squadron or sleep with strangers or drink yourself senseless more times than you can even remember and it’s all better now and you’re not a wreck of a person with nothing good left in her and nothing worthy to offer—'" She turned from him.

“Cara.”

The rawness in his voice...she had to look at him. 

His helmet was off—it was _off_ —and he was facing her in the dim light. Brown curlyish disheveled hair, three days’ beard…and dark, dark eyes, so deep…

“You are my wife, Cara.”

His hand came up to touch her cheek. Ungloved. Bare. Then the other hand. He cupped her face softly. 

“Cara.”

She couldn’t help but look in his eyes and she was terrified. He would see that gaping chasm in her between the warrior who was fearless and the woman who was a coward. 

“Din, I can’t—” she said, but no sound came out.

His bare thumbs stroked her skin, slowly. 

She shook her head, but she couldn’t move. 

Yet he had known she wasn’t a good person. He’d known all along.

“Cara.” He was looking at her, seeing her.

If he had thrown her up against the bulkhead, she would have known what to do. She could fight that. This—this didn’t follow the rules. It wasn’t fair.

She was helpless. She was going to lose this battle.

Yet he knew she was a coward. She’d said she’d never leave him and then left at the first chance she got. He’d known that all along too.

Gently he tilted her chin up. She closed her eyes, refusing to look at him. 

Yet…yet somehow, in spite of all the truth he knew about her, he still wanted Cara Dune to stay with him forever. Din Djarin, the best man she’d ever--

“Cara.” 

His voice, so tender, broke over her name.

And so did she.

It happened—the very thing she’d feared. The dam she’d built and fortified all these years—the one he and his baby had been chipping away at—gave way, and everything, all of it, flooded through her in a torrent.

The sobs came first, wracking her noiselessly. Her knees gave way, and he sank with her to the floor. The tears came next, an ugly cry with gasps and wailing and shaking and silent keening and snot and spit and she didn’t even know what else. She couldn’t stop. He held her and didn’t let go.

He didn’t let go and he was crying too, they were a mess of snorting and choking and clinging and anguish and comfort.

Finally she was exhausted and boneless but still in his arms and she slept.

  
  
  


When she woke, she was oddly constrained, but she wasn’t afraid. Light was pressing in through her eyelids, and peace was weighing on her, but it was a comforting weight.

Or maybe it was just the baby.

She opened her eyes (crusted over) to find herself on the floor of the cockpit with the little waif lying sideways across her neck and Din’s. Din’s arm was slung loosely over her waist, their feet intertwined. 

This was…real? 

She tried breathing. Yes, that was working. Her cheeks were stiff with the aftermath of tears (and snot), but she was still in one piece. The welding torch or something was digging into her ribs. And he was still here.

She took a deep breath, but paid for it as the child stirred in his sleep and backhanded her eye. She winced and opened them to see Din awake too, looking at her over the baby’s foot. He smiled, slowly and sleepily.

She had seen his face for the first time only a few hours ago, and already his smile had the power to make butterflies dance in her stomach and her breath come short. But she’d known it would, even if he was the ugliest man in the galaxy, ever since Sorgan. Turned out he wasn’t ugly, not by a long shot.

She really, really didn’t know how to do this thing. She wasn’t sure she _could._

But she found herself smiling back.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my Star Wars twin for more or less beta reading this chapter for me. She had some helpful critiques, but really it was her initial _gahhhhhh_ that encouraged me to keep writing this into a story. :)


	15. Part 3: Repairs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter continues where the previous one left off.)

Cara and Din had managed to sit up slightly when they heard the mew like a tooka. 

The child was awake, and he was cooing at Din. 

He stared for a moment, lifting his ears, then slowly crawled into Din’s arms. He reached one little clawed hand out and touched his bare cheek. His big eyes stared into Din’s, unblinking. He cooed again and babbled something. He reached his other little hand up to touch Din’s bearded chin and laughed.

Cara saw the tears start in Din’s eyes, and her own filled too. This dam breech was going to have long-term consequences with her self-control, she could see.

The baby kept on babbling, and Din finally said, with a crooked smile, “Well, little womp rat, what do you think? Should I keep it off for our family?” Still looking at the baby, he said to Cara, “Once I knew he would be my son, I showed him my face, but…” He sighed. “I was really used to keeping my helmet on.”

The baby squeaked and patted Din’s face with both hands, then turned to Cara and leaped into her arms before she knew what was happening.

“Well, hi,” she said.

She could have sworn he smiled at her. 

“Yeah, you know I like you too, Squirt,” she said, tweaking his ears. “Most of the time.” He cooed, and she couldn’t resist kissing the top of his fuzzy head. Yes, it had come to this. She kissed him again for good measure.

“Hey,” said Din. “What about me?”

Hmm. She tweaked Din’s ears and kissed the top of his untidy head.

Of course this was playing with fire, and with something that sounded like a growl, Din kissed her properly. 

But when he drew back and looked at her, Cara could see the self-doubt in his eyes. It cut her to the quick, so she said, “You are my husband, Din Djarin.” She punctuated the statement with a gentle kiss to each of his eyelids, adding for good measure, “You are my husband, you are my husband.”

He was not a bad kisser for a beginner. In fact she was beginning to think rather hazily that his beard was definitely not too scratchy and the floor of the cockpit was not nearly as uncomfortable as she had thought and she could work around the armor and she wouldn’t at all mind spending an hour or two here with Din when a mew sounded close by. She and Din both startled and he cracked his forehead into her jaw.

“This is not going to be easy,” he said huskily as the baby crawled onto his shoulder and peered intently into his ear.

“We’ll figure it out, Din,” she said. 

He touched his forehead to hers. “We will.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t the end, just a midseason finale of sorts… I’ll update again soon!


	16. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They don’t call it a _honey_ moon for nothin’, guys. BYOI.  
> (Bring your own insulin.)

Cara felt an absurd urge to _giggle._ Had she ever giggled in her life? She couldn’t remember doing it, but kriff, she wanted to do it now. It was like all the joy and excitement simmering in her soul needed to bubble out.

“Hold this steady,” Din said. 

Cara held down the metal brace Din was installing to make his bed a double. Or at least as much a double as this tiny sleeping compartment behind the cockpit would allow. They would have to get into the bed from the foot of it, because there would be no spare room on three sides once they finished it. 

“We better put in another one,” Cara said when Din had finished. “This baby’s gonna need to be _sturdy._ ”

Din turned his head to look at her. Though he’d explained that the Creed allowed him to show his face with his wife and child (and them only), he still wasn’t used to going without it. Cara understood that was a change he’d have to make slowly, so she was determined not to push it. It was only the first day, after all. But she really wished she could see his face right now. She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

“You’re finding this amusing, Cara?”

“You bet your beskar I am,” she said. She giggled.

He ran the noisy drill for what seemed like an excessive amount of time. Then he asked, “Why is it funny?”

“Well, not so much funny as happy. Joyful.” She bumped his elbow with hers. “Hey, this was your idea, remember?”

He ran the drill again. Watching his stiff posture, some of Cara’s giddiness died. He put in another brace without saying anything else. He glanced at her and bolted in a fourth brace as well, with emphasis. Finally he finished and faced her. “Yes, but Cara, I’m not…good at this.”

“Good at what?”

He looked down at the drill and sighed. “Relationships.”

Cara gave it a second before she replied, “Din, it’s just me. I’m not exactly new around here. We’re already friends, only we found that we mean even more to each other. The only thing that’s going to change is that I get to sleep here and we’re going to have a lot more fun.” 

He tilted his head at her. She knew he was smiling reluctantly when he said, “Promise?”

Cara grinned. “Oh, I’m pretty sure, at least about the fun part.” She stood. “Let’s finish up the base, I’ll throw my pallet on here, and we can give it a test run until the kid wakes up.”

Of course the kid woke up from his nap before the base was even finished.

But somehow they found time later to make good on Cara’s promise.  
  
  
  
  


When Cara woke the next morning, she was alone. Everything had been fine—she thought—when they’d finally fallen asleep together last night…

Stifling a pang of disappointment, she told herself at least he couldn’t be far. _Luckily, Cara, it is impossible for you to have driven him away, since we are in the middle of space._ She snorted, then dressed and put in her braid.

Din was fully dressed, armored, and helmeted, making breakfast at their little stove. He didn’t turn around when she jumped down. _Uh-oh._

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

Well, well, good start. “You…okay this morning?” She dropped down the table top and pulled up a bin to sit on.

“Yeah.”

Oh wow, this was already _very_ awkward. He’d said he wasn’t good at relationships, but she was not exactly an intergalactic expert. Was he just shy, or what?

But then he added, “You?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider, until the silence forced him to look back at her. “I’m pretty good,” she said. “I would go so far as to say _really_ good. Maybe even excellent. I just spent the night with the best husband I’ve ever had.” She tapped her cheek and narrowed her eyes. “Yes. Yes, he’s definitely in the top _one._ ”

She got the little huff of laughter she was listening for as he brought her a plate of hash and set it in front of her. “Yeah, okay, Cara.”

“Din—” She caught his hand, and to her surprise two fat tears dribbled down her cheeks. _The dam breech strikes again._

“Cara?” Din sounded aghast. “What’s this?”

She didn’t know herself. “It’s— I’m happy.” 

“This is _happy_?” He sounded horrified. He sat down beside her and took off his helmet. The concern in his eyes made the tears come harder.

She squeezed his glove and nodded, then choked out a laugh at the bewildered look on his face. “Din, I’m sorry, it’s… You know I don’t… I guess I’m just overwhelmed. In a _good_ way, though. In the _best_ way. Because we belong to each other, and I never thought someone like you… I never even let myself _dream_ \--”

Din touched his forehead to hers. “Yeah. That’s…me too. Just…without the crying.”

Cara tried to laugh again, though it came out more like a gurgle. Din covering himself from head to toe this morning made sense now. Well, no one would deny they were a strange pair. But right for each other. They were trying, and they would succeed, if she had anything to say about it.

“Your food is getting cold,” Din said.

“Yeah, but I’d rather sit like this with you.” 

“That’s not very practical,” Din said, not moving.

“You make me all kinds of irrational, Din Djarin.”

A beeping sounded in the cockpit above them, and he broke the contact. “I better go check on that.”

“Okay,” Cara said as he got up to investigate. He’d left his helmet on the table, so that was a good thing, right? She took a deep breath that ended up as a sigh. Emotions were exhausting. It was no wonder they’d both tried to ignore them for ages.

She heard Sprout fussing in his room and opened his door for him. He toddled out sleepily. Kriff, that kid was cute. 

“Good morning, Squirt.” She kissed his fuzzy green head, because why not, before sitting him in his chair. “Weren’t you sweet to sleep all night? You just keep that up. Now looky here. It’s your favorite—reheated hash,” she said brightly. “Hope you brought your appetite!”  
  
  
  
  
  
Cara climbed up to the sleeping compartment after her shower that night and found Din sitting on the foot of the bed taking off his armor. He looked up at her and smiled, but turned his attention back to his beskar. Cara sat down beside him. This was still ridiculously awkward.

“You smell nice,” Din commented.

Cara snickered. “Yeah, that’s the idea behind a shower.”

Din put down his armor, then reached up and undid her braid, smoothing out the strands of hair with gentle fingers.

“You…you don’t have to keep doing that,” she whispered. She _hated_ feeling so fragile. Din was the only person she’d ever told about this tradition in her vanished culture: when a woman allowed someone to take out her braid, she was declaring their relationship was one of profound intimacy. She’d let Din take it down last night.

But what she hadn’t told him was her own family’s variation on the Alderaanian custom. Not content with a one-time rite, her father had taken down her mother’s braids every night of every year of every decade of their marriage as a reaffirmation of his love. 

“If a thing is sacred to you, Cara,” Din said quietly, “it will be sacred to me too.”

Was everything he said and did going to be able to shatter her? What had she gone and _done_ , marrying Din Djarin, the one man who had the power to reduce her to this? Biting her lip, she turned her head so he couldn’t see her face. 

“Hey,” he said. “Is this the happy crying or the sad crying?”

“I’m not crying,” she said. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.

“Okay,” he said, pulling her head down against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around her. 

She had gone and married the one man she could trust to gather up the pieces.  
  
  
  
  
  
The wrestling session Din agreed to, after they’d been married a few days, ended with them tangled in a sweaty heap on the mat on the floor of the hold. “You weren’t wrong, Din,” Cara admitted when she could form words again. “This was…not sparring.”

“Nope,” he agreed, still catching his breath.

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“Maybe I wasn’t. We better make sure.”

When they were tangled in a slightly less sweaty heap in their bed later, Cara asked, “Have you felt—this —for me ever since that day you wouldn’t wrestle me?”

“Yes.” 

“When did you start?”

Din was quiet for so long that Cara poked his ribs. 

“I’m thinking,” he protested. “I don’t know for sure. I always liked you, Cara, from the beginning. It was so easy to be with you, and you understood me. Then, when I was sure I could trust you… It was good to have a real friend. I missed you when you were on Nevarro, but I didn’t realize it until you came back. When you did…I guess this grew before I knew what it was. 

“But that day on Coruscant when you came for me, and then you said I was the best man you knew… I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. And how it made me feel. And then I realized that the reason that I felt that way about what you said was because of how I already felt about you.”

Cara snuggled closer. “For a man who says he’s not good at explaining things, that was pretty clear.”

Din sighed. “It didn’t feel very clear at the time. It felt very, very confusing. You treated me like a brother, mostly, and…I didn’t know if you understood… And then you met Paz and I thought what if you found someone you liked better before I told you…”

“Aw, Din. I knew how I felt about you ever since Sorgan.”

She felt his flinch of surprise. “Sorgan?”

“Yeah. The _first_ time.”

“Really?”

“So on Nevarro, when you were hurt, and I was throwing myself on you and holding your hand, you didn’t _notice_?”

Din looked flummoxed. “I don’t know, Cara, that day is pretty fuzzy. I know you were there for me when I needed you. But—isn’t that what friends do?”

Cara felt her heart squeeze. How many friends had he ever had in his isolated life? 

To give herself a moment, she brushed the hair from his forehead. She thought of her friend Hoofer, when he’d died. Jomarti had held him—what was left of him—in his arms like a baby, and Cara had held his hand. So maybe she hadn’t been as obvious as she thought that day on Nevarro, whatever Greef Karga said.

“Yeah. Friends comfort each other too.”

Din was still looking dazed. “As long ago as Sorgan? For that long, and yet you fought me so hard when I wanted you for my wife?”

“Yeah. I thought you wouldn’t really want someone like me. You _shouldn’t_ want someone like me.”

“Cara,” he said huskily, “we’ve been through this, right?”

Cara swallowed hard. “Yeah. I know. I know.”

Din held her so tight she couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. 

“Din? Just…I want to remind you: I won’t leave you. I know when I have something precious.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Cara lay awake, looking at Din. Breathing deeply in sleep, he lay beside her. Or more accurately, he lay squashed up against her on his side, one arm serving as a pillow for both their heads. Or was she squashed up against him? Anyway, there wasn’t much room for the two of them. Which she was really, really okay with.

She had not known it was possible to be so happy you couldn’t sleep.

Yes, she still had a record that could land her in jail. Yes, it was possible there was a bounty on her. Yes, her birth family, her planet, and all its culture were gone. Yes, she and Din were pretty much poverty-stricken. Yes, they still might have to give up the child. But right now, right at this very moment, a couple of weeks into her marriage to Din, she was happier than she’d ever been in her life.

She loved the dimple in Din’s right cheek when he smiled widely. She loved the way his eyebrows were the most expressive part of his face. His left eyebrow could climb high into his hair but the other one couldn’t follow. She loved the warmth of his brown eyes. She loved the arch of his nose. She loved the two worry lines between his eyebrows. She loved the way his mustache always grew so much thicker and faster than the rest of his beard. She loved the way he tried to remember to shave more often now.

She loved that she had been right about Din’s hair: it was a mess, all the time. She’d offered to cut it for him, but he declined. That was okay, because she secretly loved it. Loved burying her fingers in it, loved how boyish the untidiness made him look. Loved how the helmet could not crush the longish ends that curled rebelliously, especially when he was sweaty.

She loved the way he didn’t pretend that he didn’t have the nightmares, and let her hold him tight afterwards. She did the same for him, though those dreams, especially about the boy on Chandrila, were rarer now.

She loved the way he always seemed a little puzzled over why he earned so much adoration from her. Was it natural humility or just naivete? She didn’t know yet, but either way, it made him even more attractive. When he reciprocated the appreciation, he generally didn’t use words, but his methods were just fine by her.

She loved the way he and Little Magic let her be part of their bedtime routine sometimes. When Sprout wouldn’t sleep, Din would bring him to their bed and tell him stories. Din had a surprising aptitude, all unknown to her till now, for making up adventures. With Sprout tucked under one arm and Cara tucked in the other (just like Coruscant), he would begin. Then one night, he stopped in the middle and said, “Your turn, Cara.” She picked up the story and carried it for a while until she ran out of ideas, then dropped it in Din’s lap again. He took it and ran, but Little Magic was pretty well out by then…and so were they. 

She loved kissing Din’s scars, as gently as possible. She thought she had found all the ones on his skin, but she wished she could comfort the ones on the inside too.

She loved the way Din accepted her invasion of his personal space—how long had he lived here on the _Crest_? She would have to find out—as if it was an honor.

She loved that there was still so much more about him to learn, and, if they both lived, she had a lifetime to do it in.

There were a few of his ways she did _not_ love (she’d used the punching bag a couple of times already), but she knew her annoying habits probably outnumbered his by a lot. Fate had dealt her an excellent hand, and she was not such a fool as to squander it.

Well, well, look who was here. “Hey, you adorable green goblin,” she whispered as Squirt climbed onto the bed, crawled up into the tiny gap between her head and Din’s, and snuggled down. He cooed at her briefly before falling immediately into his quiet little snuffly snores. He’d be tangled in her hair before morning.

Cara took stock again.

Yes, _definitely_ happier than she’d ever been in her life. Here, next to Din, her sanctuary.  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Alderaanian braid tradition, see _Leia: Princess of Alderaan,_ ch. 27.


	17. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

“That’s good,” Din was saying. It was another piloting lesson. “And now you calculate the differen—”

But since Squirt was tucked in his bed, Cara had already pressed the button. The _Crest_ jerked, and Din stumbled back into Cara’s lap.

“I guess we need to keep up the lessons since you keep skipping that step,” Din said when they came up for air. 

“I think you’re onto something,” Cara said.

Cara loved that she could see now what the helmet usually hid--the roll of his eyes to accompany the crooked smile.

Even with this large distraction, Cara managed to concentrate enough to maneuver the ship, when it came out of lightspeed, into the atmosphere of the orangish planet and skim over the area where the report had indicated the temple would be. Cara set the _Crest_ down gently on what appeared to be a rocky bluff and turned her attention back to her husband. But before the situation could evolve any further, the child (appearing like magic) crawled up onto the console and began to make excited squeals toward the window.

“Looks like he’s enthusiastic about this Jedi temple?” Cara ventured.

Din stood, put his helmet on, and picked the baby up. “I think it’s something more.”

Squirt babbled and squawked, holding out both hands toward the window. All Cara could see was a cliff looming up in the distance. “Is that the temple?”

“I guess we should go see.” 

  
  
  
  
“I don’t like this,” Cara said as soon as she walked down the ramp of the _Crest._ The ground, spongy and moss covered, trembled under her feet.

Though they had landed on as solid a piece of rock outcropping as Cara could find, the mist hid most of the mountainous terrain they had seen from the air.

Some kind of bird screamed from the air behind the ship, Cara turned the Brenny toward it, but nothing came near and she saw nothing.

“It’s creepy,” she told Din as he and Squirt joined her and Din closed the ramp with his arm controls. 

“It is,” Din agreed. “But the child seemed to sense something here, and we have nothing better to go on.”

Cara eyed Little Magic, who seemed pretty serene. He lifted his ears at her and gurgled.

“Yes, you’re cute,” she said, “but I hope you’re going to let us know if there’s something trying to kill us here.”

The child cooed at her.

“I guess you two better lead the way,” Cara said, letting them walk ahead. Din had his blaster out, but Squirt was simply looking around curiously from his carrier. Various other animal sounds drifted through the fog as they approached what appeared to be a mountainside looming up ahead of them. None seemed terribly close, but Cara could not be at ease. She had a very bad feeling about this place.

They skirted the base of the cliff, searching for some kind of passage or gap to continue on. The spongy ground grew more clumpy, and Cara wondered if it was turning into a bog of some kind. Just what she wanted.

“Up ahead, there’s a break in the rock,” Din said, looking through some kind of schematic in his visor. He stopped. “Is this where we go?” he asked the child.

Sprout lifted his hand toward the fissure. Cara wasn’t convinced he wasn’t just pointing randomly, but she followed when Din continued on.

The opening was pretty narrow—she could barely squeeze through after the boys. It was not going to be easy to make a quick getaway through.

Inside it was quite dark. Even once her eyes adjusted, she had a hard time finding Din and Sprout until she heard him coo. They seemed to be in a vast chamber that echoed. Once they had stood quietly and listened for a minute, Din switched on his helmet light. It was indeed a huge chamber, filled, as much as Cara could see, with strange symbols and designs. It gave her the creeps.

And then she heard it.

“Go back,” a voice whispered. _Go back go back go back_ swirled back in echo.

“Uh, Din…”

“I hear it,” he murmured. “Who are you?” he said in a louder voice.

“Go back. You will be captured too…” The eerie voice faded.

“I say we take his advice,” Cara said.

Din held up his hand, and she was quiet while he listened and took stock of the situation. She saw him switch on something else for his visor as he looked around slowly. They inched forward, Cara guarding their backs.

Suddenly the child whimpered and Din jerked aside and fired his blaster. Then silence.

“There’s something there,” Din whispered.

“What?” Cara asked, aiming the Brenny. 

“No,” he said, pressing the muzzle down. “A forcefield of some kind, maybe. I couldn’t feel it, but the child did.”

“Is it a magic forcefield then?” Cara asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. Let me try again. If it hurts him, I’m not going to try to get in there again.”

Din inched into the darkness again, and again the baby cried out and Din retreated.

“Let me try,” Cara said. She walked slowly forward, Brenny out, but she felt nothing…only a coldness that seemed to sink into her skin.

She went back to Din. “Nothing but a cold feeling that’s creepy as hell,” she said. “If you can give me a light, I’ll go in there and see what’s going on.”

“Go back,” the voice whispered.

“Sounds like it will be fun,” she said, taking the light from Din. “You’re sure this is the place?” she asked Sprout, who only gurgled at her. “Of course you are.”

“Here, take the com too.” Din handed the metal cylinder to her.

“Okay, wish me luck,” she said.

Din grabbed her hand and whispered words she didn’t know. 

“What?”

“I said, ‘May Fate be kind to my precious one.’”

“Oh,” she said, feeling the warmth spread down to her toes. “Okay.” Once she finished piloting, next on her list of lessons was definitely going to be Mando’a.

He let go of her hand and she turned back to the blackness of the cave. He still left her unbalanced sometimes—just when she thought he was thinking of nothing but the business at hand, he’d surprise her with a depth of feeling he gave little outward indication of. Not to mention that four months into this wife thing and she often still felt dazed just by the fact that he wanted her. Cared for her that much.

With an effort, she jerked her mind back into wariness as she edged into the area where she’d felt the coldness. Yes, there it was. Fantastic. Just follow the ice floe.

She walked slowly through a shadowed archway and stumbled a bit at the edge of stairs going down. A passage led to the right. Which way? Both felt equally cold. 

“Where are you?” she called to the disembodied voice. She wasn’t sure the voice was what the child wanted out of this place, but at least it was a start.

“I’m…down,” said the voice. It sounded less eerie from here, and more weary or weak.

She went down the steps slowly, trying not to look at the painting on the wall, which was nothing more than shapes and perhaps symbols, she supposed, but were somehow distinctly disturbing. 

At the bottom of the steps the floor was cracked and broken. Great arches rose up, only to show fissures and crumbled edges. 

“Guide me with your voice,” she called. Every sound echoed weirdly here and seemed to magnify. 

“I’m as down as there is, I think,” the voice said after a moment. Definitely weariness.

Coldness was starting to numb her toes, but she kept walking down two more sets of steps, while the surfaces she was walking on deteriorated. Chunks were missing from the stairs which would make it tricky to go back up. She could swear she heard a deep rumble of voices chanting, almost below the register of her human hearing. She hoisted the Brenny.

Suddenly something scuttled past her and she trained the gun on it as it went past. “Show yourself!” she shouted. 

The tiny mismatched eyes of a BD droid peeked around a column.

“Got a reason for me not to blast you?” she demanded.

The droid hopped out from behind the column and whistled to her before turning on his light and hopping away. 

Cara sighed and followed. Further down the hall, the droid was lost in shadow and all was silent.

“Where are you?” she called.

“I’m here,” said the voice quite close by. Cautiously she edged around the corner, to find the BD droid standing beside a human man slouched on the floor. The droid looked up and beeped furiously as Cara approached. 

“Are you hurt?”

The man sighed and struggled to his elbows. “Not hurt--weak. Do you have water?”

“Not with me,” Cara said, kneeling beside him. “I have a medpac. Do you need that?”

He shook his head. “Nothing a medpac can fix.”

“I have supplies back on our ship. If you can stand, I can help you out.”

“There are a lot of stairs,” the man said doubtfully.

Cara activated her com. “Anyone there?”

_“Cara. What’s happening?”_

“I’m okay. I found a man. He needs help.”

_“Okay. Can you ask him how he got there?”_

The man heard and gave a weak snort. “By my own stupidity. I was lured in here by the hope of finding a holocron. Haven’t been able to get out. There is a Force barrier I can’t breech.” He stopped to wet his lips and catch his breath. “BD-1 here has been scavenging food for me from the outside, but it’s not a task he’s suited for.” Cara did not miss the affectionate smile he gave the little droid.

“So no ideas how to get you past the barrier?” Cara asked the man.

He shook his head.

Cara spoke into the com. “I’m bringing him up. You were right—it’s a magic barrier and he can’t get past it.” She tucked the com away and asked the man, “What’s your name?”

“Cal,” he answered.

“Cal, I’m Cara. Let’s go.” Cara helped him to stand. He was older than she was, but in the dim light it was hard to tell how much, and he looked pretty wrecked. 

After the first set of stairs he had to rest, leaning heavily on her, and by the next set she asked him if he would object to being carried. Though his shoulders were broad, he was not particularly large, so she was able to hoist him over her shoulder. It left him little dignity, but it worked. By the second set of steps she was pretty winded herself. They sat to rest while the droid hovered, and Cara realized her com was blinking.

_“Cara, what’s going on?”_

“We’re taking on the steps,” Cara told Din, still short of breath. “It’s slow going.” At least she wasn’t cold anymore, but that chanting was really, really getting to her.

“Who’s with you?” Cal asked her wearily.

“My husband and…our son.”

“One of them…uses the Force?”

Cara eyed him. “Why do you want to know?”

Cal’s eyes were closed. “I can sense it. That’s why I warned you.”

Cara’s heart sank. This was what she’d been dreading since she’d heard he couldn’t get past the magic barrier. She didn’t ask the next question.

“Ready?” she asked Cal instead, rising.

“I’ll try to walk,” Cal said, though he looked like a puff of air would knock him over. They had to go very slow, as Cal seemed deep in concentration just to put one foot in front of the other. 

How in the world could they give up Sprout to this stranger?

It was at least another hour before Cara helped Cal to the floor at the top of the last set of stairs. They were in the cavernous room they’d first entered and Cara still couldn’t see much of anything. BD hovered over Cal, whistling anxiously. The man looked just about done and she wondered if he was even going to make it to the ship once they figured out how to get past that barrier.

_“Cara, are you all right?”_ Din’s voice came over the com quietly.

“Yes. We’re at the top. We’re pretty beat, but we’ll be over to the barrier soon.”

“Okay. The child is asleep, but maybe he can figure it out.”

She laid her head back against the wall. Well, she didn’t intend to just give the kid up, Creed or no Creed. She was making sure this guy was legit, and was going to be a good caretaker. If he even recovered.

Cara knew when Cal came to again, since she could see the shine of his eyes. 

“Are you ready for the final push?” she asked him.

He smiled grimly and held up his hand for her to hoist him to his feet. He was much better at walking the level surface toward the cave entrance. Abruptly he stopped. “It’s here.” 

“We’re here!” Cara called to Din. 

“BD-1, shine your light here,” Cal said, sinking to the ground. 

The light, when joined with Cara’s, picked up the shimmer of the forcefield. Cara cautiously touched it, but her hand went right through. “No problem for me,” she said.

She saw Din’s helmet light approaching as she turned to Cal. “Do you think I could just…pull you through?” 

“No,” Cal said decisively. Then, as Din came closer, his voice grew tighter. “A bounty hunter? What’s the price for me these days?”

“I’m not a hunter,” Din said from the other side of the barrier. The child was tucked into his carrier under a blanket. “I’m here to help. I brought you some food and water.” Making sure to keep the child away from the barrier, he passed them through to Cara, who knelt and handed them to Cal. 

Cal gulped the water at first, then drank more slowly, before tearing into the ration bar. Finally he looked up and said, “Thank you.”

Din nodded.

“Any ideas of how to get me through the barrier?” Cal asked.

“Apparently he can’t get through because he uses the Force,” Cara told Din, bracing herself.

Din was suddenly still. 

“What happens when you touch it?” Cara asked Cal.

“It burns, but it also feels solid.”

“Let’s see if the baby knows,” Cara said.

Cal looked surprised as Din knelt and took the baby out of the carrier. He gently unwrapped him from the blanket and set him on his sleepy feet.

Cara heard a strangled sound and looked down to see Cal was even paler than he had been before—she wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“Master Yoda?” he whispered, then shook his head as if to clear it.

“Who is Master Yoda?” Cara asked, but Cal wasn’t listening. He was following the baby’s waddle toward the barrier with huge eyes. But the baby didn’t seem interested in the barrier. He was reaching his hand out toward Cal…

And suddenly Cal was on the other side, and the baby had toppled over onto his lap. He patted Cal once before his little eyes closed.

Cara ran through the barrier and moved to pick up the child, but Din was there first. The baby was snuggled into his arms faster than Cara could even put out her hands.  
“Are you a Jedi?” Din asked. His voice was harsh.

“I am,” Cal said.

A low rumble interrupted the frozen moment. Something crashed further inside the temple.

“Let’s go!” Din yelled. Cara hated the stress in his voice. Half of it was despair and anger over finding a Jedi, and half was urgency. He handed her the child and picked up Cal and slung him over his shoulder without much gentleness. BD-1 beeped distressfully. Rubble was already filtering down onto their heads from somewhere far above.

Another crash sounded, closer, as they sprinted toward the cave opening. The rubble was bigger now, and Cara pressed the sleeping baby’s head closer to her body. Din shoved her through the tight opening, and she realized he could not carry Cal through.

“Lower him and I’ll grab his shirt!” she yelled.

“I can walk,” Cal said weakly. They ignored him. 

Cara grabbed the front of Cal’s shirt with one hand and hauled him backward over the threshold. Din gave a grunt and then gasped, “I’m pinned!”

Cara dropped Cal outside the opening and started to go back when Din growled, “No! Go on without me! Get the child to safety!” He picked up BD-1 and propelled him through the gap.

Not this again. It amazed her that a man as quiet as Din had such a turn for dramatics. 

Suddenly the entire side of the cliff seemed to tremble, and the front of the cave fell aside from them. Cara looked down to see Cal with his eyes closed and hand extended, just like the child did when he was using magic. He gave a slight twist of his wrist, and the chunk of paving holding Din down crumbled and fell away from him. Din stood, looking wonderingly around, as Cal’s eyes rolled up in his head.

“Come on!” Cara shouted, and Din came to himself and ran. He was limping, so she handed him the child and the Brenny and hoisted Cal up onto her shoulder. 

He was a Jedi all right, more’s the pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn’t know, Cal is the protagonist of the game _Jedi: Fallen Order._ (Beware, because there are spoilers for the end of the game later on in chapter 21ish, maybe?) I never actually played the game, just watched a (long) YouTube video of all the cutscenes/story elements. Though of course Cal can be pretty good at killing, like, everything (as you’d expect from a lightsaber game), what I didn’t expect was that he would nevertheless be the softest softie that ever softed. I hope you enjoy the middle-aged version of him.


	18. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

Din insisted that they needed to get off the planet, though they were not very close to the temple, so he retreated to the cockpit of the _Crest_ while Cara tended to the invalid. She tucked the baby away in his bed and then went in search of blankets and bedding for Cal.

In the slightly better lighting of the ship, she could see that Cal was probably fortysomething, human, with dark red hair graying with dignity, especially at his temples. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, but she suspected those were temporary. He had an old blaster burn scar on his cheek and neck, another scar across the bridge of his nose, and another through one eyebrow. There were laugh lines around his eyes and worry lines across his forehead. 

And what had to be the hilt of a real live lightsaber of legend on his hip.

Cara shook her head as she gathered up food and water. She was dreading Din’s reaction to all this. 

She set the supplies down and unfolded a bedroll beside Cal while BD-1 fidgeted beside him. He chirped inquiringly, and Cara nodded. “Do a medical scan? Is that what you’re saying? I can, but it’s a very basic scanner.” She got out a medpack and shone the light over Cal’s forehead.

“Nothing, just fatigue,” she told the droid. “So I guess, eat and sleep?”

BD-1 whistled sadly.

Cara eased a pillow under Cal’s head where she had pretty much just dumped him on the floor of the Crest, then tucked a blanket around him, just as Sprout popped his head up on the other side of him.

“Awake so soon?” Cara asked him. Of course he was.

He mewled and touched Cal’s head. BD-1 hopped over like a diminutive bodyguard but the child only cooed at him.

Cal’s eyes opened then, and he struggled to sit up.

“Hey, easy does it,” Cara said. “Don’t try to get up so fast.”

He shot her a faint smile and managed to prop himself up against the wall. Cara handed him the jug of water and he took it absently, gazing all the while at the child.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Cal.”

The baby gurgled, climbed onto his chest, and touched his face.

Cal took a drink and submitted patiently as the child stared into his eyes, making soft cooing noises.

“What’s he doing?” Cara finally asked.

“He’s trying to reach my mind to tell me something,” Cal said softly. “But I’m afraid I don’t really understand everything...”

The droid beeped sharply, and Cal laughed. “Okay, buddy. I’ll eat and drink first, talk later.” Obediently he took another drink and nibbled at a piece of bread, closing his eyes as he chewed.

Cara was bursting with questions, but she refrained. Cal was very pale. And besides, there were things that once put into words couldn’t be taken back again.

Sprout was peering all around Cal and finally found his lightsaber. He squawked.

Cal opened his eyes. “Yeah, it’s the crystals. Can you feel them?”

The baby cooed softly.

Cal reached for the saber and ignited it with his other hand, away from the baby. Cara felt a strange awe come over her at the sight of it. The hum was mesmerizing.

Then Cal switched it off. “Okay, I can show you how the inside works. But can you wait a bit? I’m not quite up to all that just yet.” He smiled at Cara wearily. “Your son is very curious.” 

Cara managed a weak smile.

“I would like to hear the story of your family sometime,” Cal said, eyes closing. Sprout, still on his chest, curled up on his shoulder, and Cal’s hand went up to cradle him.

Cara’s heart squeezed.

At that moment Din dropped down from the cockpit. He took one look at Cal and the child and stood frozen.

Then he walked over and very gently took the child from Cal’s chest. Sprout opened his eyes and cooed, then snuggled into Din’s arms.

The lump in Cara’s throat threatened to choke her.

Cal had opened his eyes. “You’re really not a hunter?”

“No.”

Cal’s eyes turned to Cara’s tattoo. “But you were a dropper?”

“Yes,” she said. “Were you…were you in the war?” Surely she’d have heard about that.

Cal shook his head. “Not in the last one. Not in the sense that you were. BD-1 and I were in the Unknown Regions.” A shadow passed over his face.

The little droid jumped up on his chest and whistled and beeped angrily at Cara and Din.

“All right, all right,” Cal laughed. “I’ll rest, I’ll rest.”

“This is no place for you to sleep,” Cara said firmly. She turned to Din. “How about we keep the baby in with us? Cal can have his bunk.”

After the slightest hesitation, Din said, “Okay.”

That was something. Cara turned to Cal. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He rose shakily and steadied himself on the wall before reaching for the food and water. “Lead on, ma’am.”

Once Cara had seen Cal safety bedded down with his food at hand and his droid hovering nearby, she stepped out and pressed the door closed. She turned to find Din standing there, utterly still, holding the baby.

She stood looking back at Din, even when the tears dripped down over her cheeks.


	19. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

Cara followed Din back up to the cockpit without a word, and when the child started being ornery, as he always did, she took him onto her lap and let him play with the cold switches Din had made for him. As long as he could push somebody’s buttons that kid was happy.

Din spent a long time looking through various star charts and pushing a lot of seemingly unnecessary buttons. “So what do you think of him?” he finally said. The strain in his voice…

“He seems like a good person,” Cara said. “But we don’t really know him yet. We need to hear his story. Why he’s the only Jedi left except for Skywalker. Who this Master Yoda was.”

“Master Yoda?”

“Yes, that’s what he said when he saw Little Magic here. He said it like he couldn’t believe his eyes.”

Din swiveled his chair to face her. “Like maybe he knew a species like the child?”

Cara nodded.

Din swiveled back around, but not before Cara had seen his shoulders slump.

She really had no idea how to comfort him. Hell, she didn’t know how to comfort herself.

“Come on, Squirt,” she said to the little one. “Let’s get some supper.” 

She figured some kind of soup would be sustaining for an invalid, so she set about putting some dried vegetables and herbs into some broth and letting it simmer. No one would ever get fat on her cooking, but they wouldn’t have to starve, either. She made some instabread and knocked on Cal’s door.

When she heard “Come,” she stepped in. 

“I made some soup,” she said. “Would you like to eat it in here, or do you feel up to coming out?”

Cal was already sitting up. “Thank you. I’ll come out.” BD-1 popped out from under the bunk and beeped before jumping up onto Cal’s back.

Cara made sure he wasn’t going to fall before she went out to lower the drop-down table. Sprout suddenly appeared from wherever he had been exploring and raised his arms for 

Cal to pick him up. Cal laughed and sat down before he pulled the child onto his lap. It did look like his face had more color after his rest.

“Watch out for him, he’s a scavenger,” Cara told him. “He’ll eat it before it gets to your mouth.”

The child looked up at him with his big eyes and blinked. Cara shook her head as she put a bowl of soup in front of Cal, who thanked her. “C’mere, you.” She drew up the baby’s chair, extracted him from Cal, and put him in it before setting his cup in front of him.

Just then Din came down from the cockpit. He nodded at Cal and then sat down and put his elbow on the table. Sprout put his arm on the table too.

“So your name is Cal.”

Cal nodded. “Cal Kestis. And yours is?” His gaze took them both in, though he already knew hers.

Cara all but groaned, but Din merely said, “We are Clan Mudhorn.”

Cal nodded again. “I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with Mandalorian customs. Much of the Clone Wars is a blank in my memory, and I’m afraid most of what I know about your culture is the ancient history of the wars between Mandalore and the Jedi. And since the Great Purge…” Cal closed his eyes. “I’m sorry too that I was not in a position to help your people.”

“Few were,” Din said. He didn’t sound bitter, just matter of fact. “So you are a Jedi? How is this? I thought they were extinct.”

“We too were purged. By order of Emperor Palpatine himself. He ordered the clone troopers, our allies, to turn on us without warning. Most of us Jedi—padawans and younglings too--were wiped out within the first few hours, including my master, who sacrificed himself so I could escape.” He swallowed. “It seems that everyone in the temple at Coruscant, which was once my home, was executed.”

Din and Cara exchanged glances. A quick flutter went through her to realize she knew exactly what his eyes looked like under that helmet. “Yes, that’s what we heard.”

“You mentioned Master someone—Yoda?—when you saw the baby here,” Cara said. “What did you mean?”

Cal nodded. “It’s because Master Yoda thought he was the last of his kind.” He smiled at the baby, who blinked solemnly at him. “It seems he was not.”

“You know of this child’s race?” Din asked.

Cal shook his head. “Not exactly. I knew only Master Yoda. He was the leader of the Jedi Council, and he also taught me when I was a youngling. But I knew nothing of his people or his home planet. Your child resembles him too much not to be of his kind.”

“He is dead?”

“He must have died along with the others.”

Din looked at the child. “So he could indeed be the very last one?” 

“I would assume that he is,” Cal said. “He doesn’t appear to be engineered. How did he come to be your son?”

Din was silent for a moment before he said, “I found him and saved him from death. And he saved me. I am as a father to him now.”

“You don’t know anything about his past?”

“I know he is fifty-one or -two standard years old,” said Din. “He has a chain code. He was wanted by Moff Gideon.”

“Moff Gideon, the ISB officer who was executed for war crimes?”

“He was not executed as reported,” Cara said. “Believe us: we encountered him not long ago.”

Cal looked troubled. “What did he want from your son?”

Din looked down. “They wanted to extract something from him. Something physical for certain, and maybe more. I don’t know what.”

The child swarmed down from the chair and up into Din’s lap. Din held him up to his chest and the child began to chew on his mythosaur pendant. He looked up at Din and trilled.

Cal asked quietly, “Did they succeed?”

“I don’t know,” Din answered. “When I found him in the laboratory, he was strapped down to a scanner. There was a torture droid there too, a mind probe droid. I destroyed it. I don’t know if they had used it. When I looked at the baby later, when he was safe, he was bruised, but I could not find any other injuries.”

Cara had never heard this part of the story. She had the urge to cross the small space and give her family a hug that she never released them from. With typical Din understatement, all he’d said is that he took out the safehouse when he snatched the kid.

Cal bowed his head, then raised it after a moment and said, “It seems the child found a worthy protector.”

At that moment BD-1 interjected a minatory beep, and Cal smiled. “BD is right. I should probably rest again.”

“Your soup has to be cold,” Cara said. “I’ll get you a fresh bowl.”

“Thank you,” said Cal as he rose. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll eat it in my room…?”

“Sure.” Cara handed him the bowl as he walked to his bunk, while the droid whistled softly.

When his door closed, she walked over to Sprout and kissed his fuzzy head. “I’m glad your dad saved you,” she said. She leaned in toward Din’s ear. “I’m glad you saved him too,” she whispered. “But you’ll get your kisses later.” If the child ever went to sleep. Once they’d tried locking themselves in the shower space for privacy, but that hadn’t worked out well. It was a _very_ small space. And it echoed. Loudly.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Din said.

Cara loved that flirty tone of voice, which was only slightly different than his other tones of course, but she knew the timbre. She didn’t expect it to last though. She took the baby from his arms. “Now go ahead and eat while I keep Sprout occupied.”

He took a bowl and went, but Cara knew that he was only going to worry about the child the whole time.

Later, when Squirt was tucked away in this cradle, Cara set about working out the tightness from Din’s shoulders. Usually this ended the same way, but not tonight. Though Cara’s hands were efficient, the tension would not ease away.

Finally Din sighed and rolled onto his side. “Come here,” he whispered, inviting her to lie down in the circle of his arm beside him. It was her usual spot anyway.

He touched his forehead to hers. He probably wanted to talk, so she resisted the very strong urge to kiss everything she could reach, and stayed still.

“Do you think he’s the last of the child’s kind? If there are no more of his species, and he is the last Jedi?”

“There’s still Luke Skywalker.”

“Yeah.” 

“Are Jedi the only people that use the Force?”

Din sighed.

“Well, if his species is extinct, then we have to fall back on his kind, which are Force users. But does he belong to them, Din? What gives them the right to raise him if they have no other connection to him than an _ability?_ ”

“I don’t know. I do know that he needs someone to teach him about his power. Is he shortening his life by using the Force? Is he hurting his mind? How does he know how to do this without being taught?”

She wrapped herself closer to him. “Do you trust Cal enough to ask him these questions?”

Din sighed again, deeply.

Oh, he definitely needed some kissing. And much more. But on cue, the child climbed up onto the bunk and wedged himself between them, then promptly began to snore.

Not the first time Squirt had done this. Probably the fiftieth, in fact. Din was endlessly patient with him, but Cara had considered many forms of retribution that of course she never would deal out to an innocent child.

And now they were thinking about doing something much worse. In the name of his own “good,” in the name of a better future. But giving him away to strangers who didn’t love him—how could that be better for him?

Cara surprised herself by kissing the baby’s head instead of Din, and choking back tears. _Again._ Was this what having a child did to you? 

She had herself in hand again in a moment, after Din gathered them both into a massive hug, but some things even Din could not fix.


	20. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

Cara scowled at herself in the tiny mirror she had rigged up in the shower room. Din had said her first instinct when she was upset was the beat the hell out of someone, which was true. But here she was, denied that satisfaction—denied _any_ physical outlet—and now what she wanted to do was run. Just ditch the Jedi (pretend they’d never met him), take Little Magic, and go on the lam.

But as she knew firsthand, Din would literally rather bleed out than break his Creed. And she was pretty sure she’d rather bleed out than break with Din. So here they were.

She dragged a brush through her tangled hair, which she might as well just start calling the baby’s nest, since that’s what it had turned into. If she had to give that child up, she was going to shave herself _bald._

Then she lowered the brush, thinking. For all Din’s words about exceptions within the Creed, she knew he had squinted a bit to make it possible for him to marry her. Would he squint a bit in fulfilling the Armorer’s directive?

_“By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father,”_ she had told Din. _Reunited with its own kind._ Interesting wording. Cara would think about that. Maybe she could plant the idea in Din’s mind to think outside the box.

When Cara came out, Din was putting a bowl of eggs in front of the child, whose ears were twitching with anticipation. He put another bowl in front of Cal, who was sitting at the table too. BD-1 was again perched on his shoulder, examining the meal. Din never ate eggs for some reason, and he gave her the bowl filled with the last of them. 

Cara sat down beside Din.

“Where would you like us to take you, Cal? Anywhere in the Outer or Mid Rim,” said Din.

Cara put on her best sabaac face and continued eating.

Cal looked up, questioning.

“Where is your home? Or where do you want to go? We’ll take you,” Din said.

“My home is not a place,” Cal said, concentrating on his food.

“You’re not a prisoner, is what I’m saying. I want to make sure that’s…clear.”

“Oh.” Cal looked slightly amused, then wiped the expression from his face. “Well, that is very kind of you. If I had a choice, I would prefer to go to Tatooine, but only if it’s not out of your way.”

“Tatooine? That skug hole?” Then, apparently realizing he might have been less than tactful, Din added, “Of course, if that’s where you want to go…”

Cal laughed. “It’s not my home, but I do want to go there for a brief visit. Rumor has it that it was once the home of three Jedi: Luke and Anakin Skywalker, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Din did not respond, and Cal smiled. “It’s been a while though. Likely nothing left but ghosts. But you’re welcome to come if you’re interested in the Jedi. Which you really seem to be.”

Din looked at Cara, giving nothing away. She shrugged. “We need parts, food, and supplies, as usual.” And money, as always. And she wanted to know a lot more about the live Jedi who was with them, not the dead ones.

“I know a trustworthy mechanic at Mos Eisley,” Din said. “I think we’ve got another fuel leak.” He sounded weary. “But I will need to lay low.”

Cara looked at him with her eyebrows raised, so he explained. “Ever heard of Fennec Shand?”

Cara shook her head, but Cal nodded. “Crime syndicate assassin. Elite mercenary. Rumored to have done work for high-up Imperials.”

“Yes, that’s her. I was working with a bounty hunter to bring her in for the Guild when she was murdered. If there’s any law—or any gangster presence—left in that area, I may be a suspect.”

“Do you know who killed her?” Cara asked.

“Yes,” Din said. “And I killed him.” He paused a moment. “He threatened my son.”

Cara pulled up another chart on the navicomputer. She was getting the hang of this navigation thing, even if she still was not a great pilot. Tatooine. There it was. Right smack dab in the middle of nowhere. 

Well, the location suited her fine. What she was not crazy about was going there after what Din had said about the place. 

_“I killed him. He threatened my son.”_ A chill ran lightly up her spine at the memory of those words. She was pretty sure she was thrilled not that Din had called the baby his son, but that Din was so dangerous, and Din was hers.

And yet…in some ways he was the gentlest man she’d ever known. What a lovely contradiction was Din Djarin. She was going to keep him around as long as humanly possible. 

She heard steps coming up to the cockpit, but it was only Cal, with the BD droid perched on his shoulder. He sat quietly in the back seat not occupied by Sprout’s pram.

“May I ask you a question, Cara?”

“Depends what it is,” Cara said, lightening the harshness of the statement by smiling.

“You aren’t Mandalorian, are you?” 

“Not originally,” she said, sidestepping the sticky issue of whether she actually was one by marriage. “Alderaanian.”

Cal sucked in his breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. I had already joined the rebels, but the Great Disaster made me decide I was destined to be a shock trooper.”

“I can understand that.”

Din came into the cockpit. He was holding Squirt and BD-1 was perched on Cal’s shoulder, so it looked a dads reunion. BD-1 hopped down, and the child squirmed and fussed until Din set him gently on the floor. He waddled over to BD-1 and cooed at him. After a tentative start, BD-1 started to play with him.

“How did you find out your child could use the Force?” Cal asked.

Cara could feel Din’s tension across the cockpit. “He…lifted…a mudhorn that was attacking me. I had nothing left but my vibroknife. I expected to die, but then I saw it suspended midair even as it tried to charge me. The child held it long enough for me to get to my feet. He fainted from the strain, but I was able to kill it then.”

“A mudhorn? That giant beast of legend?”

“It was not a legend.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Cara rescued him. “How did you first know you could use the Force?”

“I don’t remember the first time I used it,” Cal said. “Apparently my parents would find me floating above my crib, and I often got things I wanted before they gave them to me. They recognized my ability and took me to the Jedi to train.” 

“How does all that work?” Cara asked, grateful for the lead-in. “You mentioned ‘younglings’ before. How do Jedi train children?”

“When we were centered at the temple, we lived together in community. The Jedi taught Force-sensitive children from across the galaxy. Most children stayed and learned to control their impulse to wield it. Older children were then assigned to a master to teach them and became padawans, or apprentices.”

“Did the children go willingly?” Din asked harshly.

Cal smiled. “My parents took me willingly. I probably would have preferred to stay with them, but I suppose they could not teach me what I needed to know.”

“Did all the children go willingly?” Din persisted.

“I don’t know,” Cal said. “I was too young to ask such a question myself. I guess as a child I assumed that everyone did. The Jedi I knew were rarely unkind.”

“What do the Jedi do now?”

“Now?” Cal seemed surprised. “Now there is no Jedi order.”

“There are no other Jedi? What about Luke Skywalker?” Cara asked.

Cal sighed. “I have never met Luke Skywalker, only heard of him. He hasn’t been easy to find. Even his sister, Senator Organa—she insists she is not a Jedi—could not tell me of his whereabouts. And the only other Jedi I knew has since passed on from the wounds she suffered at the hands of the Sith.”

“So how do you train your young ones now?” Din asked, doggedly keeping to the subject.

“The only other young one I am aware of has a mother and an uncle to teach him,” Cal said. “I know of no others. Except yours.”

There was silence. The child squealed as he played with the silver ball on the floor with BD-1.

“These ‘Sith,’” Cara said. “What are they?”

“I will tell you if you tell me how you found me in that Sith temple,” Cal said mildly, smiling.

“We were told there was a Jedi temple there,” Din said. “Apparently that information was wrong, but the child seemed very eager to go inside. He must have sensed you there?” The sentence ended with a question.

“It’s likely. I sensed him. I sensed the Force was very strong with him.” Cal had been gazing down at the child, but he looked up. “Often the Sith kept their knowledge stored in holocrons in their temples. However, sometimes the artifacts are simply weapons waiting to kill the unwary. I have tried to disarm or destroy the dangerous relics, and discern whether the knowledge contained in holocrons is harmful—it usually is. But I found nothing in that temple but a trap I foolishly fell into.

“As for who they are—the Sith are those who draw their power from the Dark Side of the Force. They use the Force for selfish reasons and to do injury to others. They are evil.”

That sounded right to Cara. That temple had given her the creeps, especially the chanting in the level where Cal had been. If she’d been there much longer, she’d have gone crazy.

“Are there Sith in the galaxy now?” Din asked.

Cal furrowed his brow. “Since the death of the Emperor and Darth Vader, I don’t think so. But I would not underestimate the power of the Dark Side.”

“Wait, you’re saying Emperor Palpatine was one of these Sith? He practiced dark Force magic?” Cara asked.

“Yes, of course,” Cal said, sounding surprised. “That is how he rose to power and with Darth Vader so easily wiped out most of the Jedi.”

Cara and Din looked at each other. They looked at Sprout, who had climbed onto Cal’s lap and was happily gnawing on the laces of his leather coat.

“How does someone get to be a Sith?” Din asked.

Cal cleared his throat. “I—I cannot say for sure. Anger, hatred, pain, fear…these left to fester unchecked in the heart of one who can wield the Force can lead one to draw on the darkness, which seems more powerful. But it is always a choice, and one can always turn from it. The Jedi taught me to meditate and draw from the light, but even so, the temptation is always there.” 

“Can you reach his mind? Can he tell you how he uses the Force?” Cara asked.

Cal tickled Sprout’s ear. The child was drooling all over the front of him now. “I can’t reach his mind. He can only reach mine, and I’m afraid I don’t completely understand what he’s saying.”

“Is he in danger of turning into something evil?” Din asked.

Cal looked steadily at Din. “Each one of us is in danger of turning into something evil,” he said. “You, as his parents, must teach him right from wrong, since he will have extraordinary power when he learns to control it.”

He captured the child’s busy hands as they reached for his lightsaber. “And speaking of control… That is not for you yet, little one.” 

Cara went over and took him from Cal, and Squirt proceeded to pitch a squawking fit. She ignored this, as she usually did, swiveled, and punched the coordinates into the navicomputer (differential had been calculated, since they had a guest). Hyperspace streaked blue and white around them, but it did not distract the baby.

Finally Din spoke sternly. “That’s enough.” He picked the child up and took him to his seat in the back, where he put him with his tooka doll. Sprout whimpered and gave Din his huge beseeching eyes. Din too ignored him until he had calmed down and climbed out of the seat and lifted up his arms for Din to hold him again.

“The kyber crystal—in my case, crystals—inside a lightsaber has a strong appeal to someone who is Force sensitive,” Cal said. “The crystals call to us and we bond with them.” His eyes were sad as he looked at the baby in Din’s arms. “Your son may never find a crystal for a lightsaber of his own. Kyber is rare now that the Empire has mined it almost to extinction. I suppose it is like beskar in that way.” He nodded to Din’s armor.

He sighed, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “Here we are, four survivors of the Emperor’s evil. Great harm has been done to our people. Yet, by the will of the Force, we live on. For what purpose? That is what we must ask ourselves.” He seemed to come back to the present. “I think you have found your reason,” he said, his eyes on the child.


	21. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for the end of _Jedi: Fallen Order_...

Cara had surrendered the pilot’s chair to Din when they came out of hyperspace, as she wasn’t quite ready to maneuver onto small landing pads yet. After undoing the seven different locks they’d had to install because of Sprout, she took the Brenny out of the arsenal, along with a cloth to give it another good shine-up. She wondered what scheme she could come up with to make some money in this backwater. Cantina fights were iffy, because you had to know whether you could trust the clientele as well as the proprietor, and that took time. Bartender? She wasn’t careful or patient enough. Cook? She wasn’t the worst cook ever, but… Gambling? Unfortunately, her skill at cards was not exemplary. Plus, you needed credits to put down before you could bet…

She had the Brenny gleaming by the time the Crest gently settled to the ground and Din lowered the back opening. Before she knew what was happening, Little Magic was toddling out the door. 

“Hey, whoa!” she called, throwing the Brenny’s strap over her shoulder and making a dash after him. 

But he was already holding up his arms to a small, curly-haired woman in a jumpsuit who waited at the bottom. 

“It’s Bright Eyes!” the woman said, sounding delighted. She tweaked his ears and looked up as Cara came barreling down toward her. “Oh. Where’s the Mandalorian?”

“I’m here. I guess he remembers you,” Din said, coming up behind Cara.

“Everyone remembers Peli,” the woman said, giving the baby a jiggle that made him gurgle happily.

“The Crest needs more repairs,” Din said with a sigh. “I’ve got a fuel leak, and the power cables are frayed and the calcinator…it’s not working right. Maybe needs rewiring.” He paused. “The droids can help.” At this, three pit droids popped up and ranged themselves behind Peli. “I have 300 Republic credits, and I’ll—”

“It’s on me,” said Cal, coming down the ramp with BD-1 and the small pouch he wore on his utility belt. He stacked a pile of credits in Peli’s open palm. “Payment for the lift,” he said with a wink at Cara. “I’ll pay the balance when I get back,” he told Peli.

“Oh,” Peli said. “Well, I’ll have to look this old thing over and see what I need to replace or at least recalibrate…”

“You don’t happen to know anything about a family named Skywalker, do you?” Cal asked, casually giving the garage a once-over.

“No,” said Peli. “You could try asking at the cantina.” Her gaze snapped onto his lightsaber and her eyes widened. “I know something about Ben Kenobi, though.”

Cal turned quickly. “Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Peli looked confused. “No. Old Ben Kenobi. Lived out near the Dune Sea. Had a laser sword like that one? Crazy old guy? Escaped from the stormtroopers on an old YT freighter that blasted its way out of a landing bay not far from here. Left with a kid, a smuggler, a Wookiee, and a couple of droids, the story goes.” She looked pleased to have everyone’s attention. “That was several years ago. And no one ever saw him again.”

“He lived out near the Dune Sea, you say?” Cal asked eagerly.

“Yeah, but I’m sure there’s nothing there now but sand. And sand people.”

“I’m going,” said Cal. 

Cara exchanged a look with Din. “Me too,” she said.

Din gave Cara a crash course in Tusken sign language and another whispered invocation to the gods before she left the compound. The first place she and Cal went, after they went to the cantina and he bought drinks and pumped everyone he saw for information, was the bazaar. Cal bought a poncho and a couple of sturdy canteens full of water, and then hired a landspeeder. The Brenny barely fit inside with her, but she wasn’t going anywhere without it, Jedi or no. BD-1 curled into the seat beside Cal.

Cal knew what he was doing with the driving so Cara was able to relax a bit and let her mind wander. 

She had been surprised how much of a pang it had given her to walk away from Din as he held the child there on the ramp of the _Crest._ Loving people made you so vulnerable. These days she was as soft as the baby Ewok fur she’d once accused Din of being. She’d already cut back on swearing, not because Din ever said anything, but because she could feel his disapproval radiating from him whenever she said something uncouth in front of the baby. She smiled just thinking about what would happen if the baby’s first words were something naughty. Din would go thermal detonator. Hmm. Maybe she would start up again. She wouldn’t mind having a good fight now and then. Din was ridiculously difficult to provoke.

“Thinking of your family?” Cal asked, smiling at her before turning his eyes back to the desert before them.

“Yeah,” she admitted.

He nodded. “You haven’t been married long?”

She eyed him. “A few standard months. Is it that obvious?” When he only grinned, she asked, “You have a family?” Then she added, “You said your home was not a place. Is it a person?”

“I must pretty transparent too.” 

She looked over at him, eyebrows raised. He really wasn’t, except that he was blushing a little bit. The tops of his ears were pink. That was actually kind of adorable. She remembered how she’d loved to tease the new recruits and make them blush back in the day. She’d accidentally made Din blush a few times the first month they’d been married, using an entirely different method. Now that had been fun. He’d thought it was pretty nice too, once he got used to the idea that maybe his Creed still allowed him to enjoy life. Poor darling. She had already vowed that one day she was going to hear him laugh—a real, whole-body belly laugh full of joy. 

Hmm. Never mind goading him into a fight over her swearing (though if an opportunity for battle presented itself, she wouldn’t refuse). Instead she’d concentrate her efforts on the baby’s first words being something that would touch Din’s very soul. She would find out the Mando’a word for “papa” and teach the baby to say it.

She realized she had let the conversation with Cal lull. Turned out it was pretty obvious she was a newlywed. “I thought Jedi were celibate. Monks, that kind of thing.”

Cal grimaced. “Most were, I think. We were not supposed to form attachments.”

“Sounds miserable.” Although she had to admit, that old Jedi routine sounded a lot like Din’s Creed, at least the way Din seemed to have lived it for years.

“Well, I was only a child when the Order was whole, so I never really thought much about it. It was just another form of self-discipline I aspired to master one day. Once I was forced to face my future as a Force user, I had to reconsider the role of a Jedi in our galaxy.”

“And?”

“And I think compassion, another Jedi tenet, is impossible without attachment. I think the attitude with which you hold your attachments—which are inevitable—is the key to the Jedi way.”

He smiled, seemingly to himself. “Sometimes we must find our own path forward even inside the destiny in store for us.”

“Makes sense,” Cara said. “But why aren’t you with your…person?”

“We cannot both do what we need to do and be together all the time. So we go about our separate tasks, and then we return to one another. Meanwhile, BD-1 takes care of me.” He grinned at the droid, who beeped back. 

“Seems like a good compromise,” Cara said as they pulled up not far from a dilapidated adobe hut. This had not been that hard to find. Had Cal just sensed the place with the Force or something?

They sat and looked at it for several moments before Cara observed, “Looks like the Jawas have been at it.”

“And who knows what else,” Cal said.

They got out of the speeder and approached the ruin cautiously. Cara could see that what once had probably been a moisture vaporator outside had been stripped to a stub of rusted piping cut off near the ground. The wind whistled around them but didn’t disturb the dunes much.

Inside, sand had filtered throughout the hut, leaving drifts against the walls. Clearly appliances or fixtures had been ripped from the walls and the furnishings carried out. A torn shade flapped forlornly in a window. One of the few things left was a low, whitish round table in the largest room that had been bolted to the floor and was probably too heavy for the Jawas to carry. Cara stood guard in the doorway, peering in. 

After a quick perusal of the place, Cal settled on his knees in front of the table, closed his eyes, and placed his hand on it.

Cara didn’t sense anything, but she knew he must have been using his powers in some way. A look of sorrow crossed Cal’s face, and even after he removed his hand, his head stayed bowed. Finally he stood and attempted a smile at Cara.

“Can I ask what that was about?” 

“I have a gift in the Force for sensing the history of an object by touching it,” Cal said. “I learned a bit about those who used this table.”

“Did your Jedi use it?”

“He did.” But Cal added nothing more.

“Does Sprout have this gift?”

Cal seemed endlessly amused by Cara’s nicknames for the baby, but what was she supposed to call him, since Din hadn’t given him a name?

“He could. If he does, he is too young to articulate what he senses, and likely too young to learn its lessons. Or perhaps it will manifest as a gift when he is older.” They walked back out to the speeder. “Either way, it is not necessarily a comfortable ability to have.”

“Did you find what you came for?” she asked as she settled into the speeder beside him.

“I did,” he said, though he didn’t sound particularly happy about it.

Cara sneaked a glance at Cal’s shuttered face as they sped back along the dunes. It occurred to her that the word she would have used to describe him was _kind._ Who would have thought she’d think of a Jedi as _kind_? If they had to give the child up, they could do a lot worse.

But to keep Sprout forever—that would be best.

When they returned to the hangar, Cara found to her surprise that Din had been allowing Squirt to play in the sand and dirt of the floor with the pit droids. Her heart warmed as the baby instantly stood and held up his arms for her to pick him up. She was happy to oblige and add a few kisses too, but what was going on with Din? He looked weary as he sat watching the child with Peli at her makeshift table.

Cal had noticed too. He had been subdued on the ride back to the hangar, but now he seemed to come to some kind of decision.

“Thank you for having my back during that expedition,” he said to Cara, who knew he’d been perfectly capable of taking care of himself the entire time. “And now I have another favor to ask. Would you let me have some time alone with your son to try to understand his abilities?”

Cara watched Din’s body stiffen, and then his shoulders slumped a bit.

“I know,” Cal added kindly, “that any parent of a toddler could probably use a nap.” 

Peli nodded emphatically. 

“I promise not to keep him too long.”

Cara looked at Din. This was asking a lot of him. But at last he gave a short, jerky nod and walked into the Crest. Cara handed Cal the baby, who lunged into his arms with a happy squawk.

Cara sighed as she followed Din up the ramp. She probably looked as dejected as he did.

It took most of the skills in Cara’s arsenal to get Din to stop worrying about the baby for even a little while, and later she had to insist that he eat and drink while he had the chance. By the time an hour or so had passed, they really needed to get back. Cara was helping him put his armor back on when he said, “You take such good care of me, Cara.”

“You know it,” she said, clicking his right pauldron into place.

“But do I take care of you?” he asked.

She picked up the other pauldron. “Well, I don’t know if you remember, you magnificent man, but just a few short minutes ago, you _expertly_ —”

“Cara. I’m serious. You are so fierce about making sure I am all right. But I don’t…how do I do that for you?”

Cara swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m serious too.” But she decided it was not the time to expound on how she did not possess his immense discipline for self-denial and she needed more time alone with Din Djarin. It was far too likely to become a reality in the worst possible way.

Din sat on the bunk and pulled her down with him.

This man did not need any more on his plate. But she had to tell him one thing. “Listen, Din,” she said. “If that baby goes…if he goes away from us, I am… It’s going to be ugly for me. You need to understand that. I’m going to fall apart. I won’t be able to do this without you. You’re going to have to help hold me together, and it’s not going to be pretty.” And maybe you’ll let me help hold you together too.

Din’s arms tightened around her. They said nothing for a long while, only held each other, until Din said, “If he goes, I will need all your fierceness, Cara.”

When Din lowered the ramp, Peli and the pit droids were gone. BD-1 was resting under the table, and Cal was still there. Sprout was sitting on his lap, leaning forward intently with ears pricked, his eyes wide and blinking. Cal’s lightsaber was disassembled on the table in front of them (out of Sprout’s reach), and Cal was pointing out the various components. 

Cal smiled as they came down the ramp, but Cara did not fail to notice that his ears pinked in that very cute embarrassed way. She would have to guard against liking him too much. He might feel like a brother, but she was not giving away her child to anyone if she could help it. 

While Cal talked to Din (or attempted to) about what he had learned about the baby, Cara and Peli threw their resources together to make a meal for everyone. From the way the mechanic talked to her pit droids all day, it seemed she was kind of lonely. Cara found out she had two grown kids, one working for a shipping company in Wild Space, and another raising her family in the Mid Rim. She hardly ever saw either of them or her grandkids. Cara let her hold Sprout and actually did most of the work to prepare the meal under Peli’s direction, and kept her mouth shut and listened. Cara was pretty sure Peli wasn’t above a little bit of retribution to customers who were rude to her, but she seemed honest overall. And she really seemed to like Din, and not just because she couldn’t resist Sprout. Cara pried a bit, but Peli was pretty closemouthed about what had happened last time Din and Sprout were here. Cara was just as glad of that. (Besides, she could get the story out of Din if she really wanted to. She had her methods.) It was nice to spend time with another woman, even if she was pretty used to the world of men. Out of the blue she found herself missing her sisters-in-law, who she’d never had much in common with, except loving her brothers.

When they’d finished cleaning up and Din took the baby to put him to bed, Peli jerked her head at Cara and whispered, “I want to show you something.”

Cara followed. Peli climbed up into the engine compartment she’d worked on earlier and shone a light into the metal depths. “Look at this.” 

Cara was looking. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to see, but there was no way she was fitting all of herself in there like Peli was. 

“Now you listen,” Peli said. “This is the problem the Mandalorian keeps having with these fuel lines. Next time you have a fuel leak, you can come back to me, but you don’t have to. I’m going to show you how to fix it yourself so you and the Mandalorian can keep Bright Eyes safe.

“This gunship is older than dirt, but it’s built right and that’s why it’s held up so long. But things like this, they just wear out. This part here, it’s going to corrode with use, no matter what environment you’re in, though it’ll get worse in damp. That will affect these wires that lead to your fuel intake regulator. But the regulator and combustion indicator will both go kurplooey if you’re not minding your ion capacitor…”

Cara climbed down from the engine compartment with her head in a whirl, but she thanked Peli gravely and said she would remember everything. And she would too. If it would save them a few credits and more worry lines on Din’s forehead, it would be worth it.

“I’d like to go to Mos Espa,” said Cal over breakfast. The five of them, with the four droids nearby, sat in the shade at Peli’s table in the landing bay, sipping Peli’s excellent caf—Din wasn’t sipping of course, just feeding Sprout one of Peli’s pastries. But Cara was. Oh, the beautiful luxury of caf in the morning…

“Nothing but trouble over there in Mos Espa,” Peli warned them. “I heard tell that back in the day there were podraces, people gambling and getting killed, and the Hutts involved in everything. And slavery,” she added darkly.

“Are the Hutts all gone?” Cara asked.

Peli nodded. “It’s been a lot more peaceful around here since they’ve been gone. And the Empire.”

“Mos Espa,” Cal went on, “is where young Anakin Skywalker lived as a child. When the Jedi Qui-Gon Jinn discovered him.” BD-1 beeped approvingly.

Cara just looked at him and kept ingesting caf. If he expected them to dance a jig this early in the morning over more dead Jedi, he was going to be disappointed.

“That’s where you want to go next? What do you expect to find?” Din asked.

Cal smiled. “It is, and I don’t know what to expect. But as long as I’m here, I’d like to investigate. This trail is even older than the last, but worth looking into. Before I finally go,” he added, looking between Cara and Din.

Din nodded.

Cara swallowed hard. They’d have to talk to him soon about Sprout…

She pushed her caf away. She must have drunk too much, because she felt a little sick.

Cal settled up with Peli, Peli kissed Sprout goodbye, Din nodded respectfully at Peli, and Cara’s stomach roiled.

Din lifted the Crest gently out of the bay, while Cara sat with the baby cuddled in her lap. Or she thought she was cuddling. After a while he squirmed and squawked a protest and she realized she was holding him too tight. 

Din said nothing, Cal said nothing, Cara said nothing.

Finally, once they had landed outside the spaceport, Din stood and said, “Cal, I’d like to talk to you before you go into the town.”

“All right,” said Cal. Cara could see he was slightly wary, but he went down the ladder as Din gestured toward it. Once they were all in the main hold, Din put Little Magic down on the floor with his tooka and pulled up a crate to the table for Cal to sit on. BD-1 jumped on his shoulder and Cal sat, looking up at them expectantly.

“The child is a foundling,” Din began. Cara wondered if he’d memorized what he was going to say. “He is too small and weak to train in the ways of Mandalore. I have been tasked to return him to his people.”

Cal looked as if he were waiting for more.

“You say that his race is all dead?” Din went on.

“As far as I know,” Cal said. 

“He uses…this Force…like a Jedi. You are a Jedi.”

Cal nodded gravely. 

Din’s posture was stiff and his hands were clenching and unclenching. Cara moved beside him and touched her shoulder to his.

“Do you claim him as one of your own?” Din asked harshly.

Cal looked down at his gloves and paused a long time before he spoke. “I will tell you,” he said, “that I once had a list of the names of Force-sensitive children all across the galaxy that the Jedi had compiled. The Sith tried to take it, but when I got it…” Cal made a fist and looked up at them. His eyes were fiery. “When I got it, I destroyed it.” 

The baby stopped playing to look up at Cal.

Cal took a deep breath. “It was twenty, close to thirty years ago. Your child might have been on the list. In fact, it’s likely he was.” He looked at Cara, then Din. “But I determined that no child should be sought and used for their power by others—even by Jedi. Every child should be allowed to choose how to live their life.”

Sprout toddled over to Cal and put his hand on Cal’s leg. Cal smiled down at him. “I hope I did right by you, little one.” The baby lifted up his arms to Cal again, and the Jedi settled him on his lap. “I think you found a good family here to protect you.” He looked at Din.

Cara knew Din was struggling to find words, but at least he spoke. Cara didn’t know if Cal recognized that there was a tremor in his voice.

“Since he is a foundling, I am as his father, by Creed, until he is reunited with his own kind,” Din said.

Cara didn’t think Cal quite understood the intricacies of the situation, but he nodded.

Din’s voice was strained. “It is my responsibility to reunite him with his people.”

If the Force was personal, Cara prayed to it that Cal would understand Din’s desperation.

Cal said, gently, “I am not going to take your child from you. It would be cruel to him and to you.” He tweaked the child’s ear and Sprout trilled at him. “But I recognize that he needs to learn the ways of the Force. So here is what I propose.”

He stood and handed the child back to Din. “I must speak with my Merrin. If she is willing, and if you are able to stay near us, I would like you to bring him to us for a time so I can teach him.”

Cara’s eyes stung and she blinked hard. “You mean, we come to you and he stays with us, but he learns from you?”

“Yes,” Cal said. “A sort of day tutoring seems like the wisest way to proceed. There are many things I would like him to understand, especially for his own safety, but you would be free to leave with him when you choose.”

Din stood motionless with the child in his arms. Finally he gave Cal a short nod and turned and climbed up into the cockpit.

Cara turned to Cal. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Cal gave a little bow of his head and smiled at her. “As we spoke of, sometimes we must find a new way forward within the path of our destiny.”

Later on, Cara and Din lay curled together with the child gently snoring between them. Din’s cheeks were wet, but so were hers, and she wasn’t sure which of them was responsible. The relief was so intense that she was pretty sure neither of them was getting any sleep tonight.


	22. Part 4: She's Coming with Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Star Wars Day! May the Fourth be with you.

Cal had spent the previous day exploring in Mos Espa while Cara’s little family stayed aboard the Crest. (Din had been disinclined to talk but insisted on attempting to clean the sand out of their living areas, which was next to impossible since it got everywhere.) Today Cal asked if they could fly out to the podracing arena to see what was left before they moved on. Cara was glad to get out of the confined space so full of emotion (even a good emotion), so all of them and the little droid trooped out into the blinding early-morning sun. Din had left the _Crest_ some distance away from it.

“The arena looks like it hasn’t been used in decades,” Cara said when they got close enough to see the seating area in the distance. She squinted at the huge edifice. 

Squirt, nestled in the carrier on Cara’s chest, seemed unhappy. His ears drooped and he whined the further they got from the _Crest._ Apparently he wasn’t a fan of podracing. 

“Anakin Skywalker won his freedom from slavery here,” Cal said. Cara couldn’t have cared less, but right now she was willing to let Cal Kestis do whatever his little heart desired, and if he wanted to wax poetic about this Anakin Skywalker, he could do it with her blessing. However, as the group plodded along in the sand, his words gave her a little pang over the Ugnaught and how he’d claimed he’d won his freedom. She wished she hadn’t doubted his goodness, when Din, who knew him better, so clearly trusted him.

Kriff, she was getting soft.

Suddenly, moving so fast Cara could only see a blur, Cal had his lightsaber out and moving in an arc. A strange whining sound accompanied it, along with Cal’s shout of warning. The blade sparked as something hit it.

“Get down, Cara!” Din shouted. He threw himself in front of her, and all she saw was the baby’s eyes as wide as hers were as they dropped behind Din. Cara heard the pang of beskar being hit and saw smoke rising from Din’s chest.

“Mando!” she screamed, trying to stand to get to him, but Cal had run in front of them, his lightsaber whipping to deflect another shot. 

“Get to cover!” Cal yelled.

“Do as he says,” Din said.

Cara was so relieved to hear his voice that she didn’t move. 

“You go and I’ll follow,” he rasped.

“But—” 

“Go,” Din said. “I’ve got…beskar…”

They struggled up a dune and rolled down the other side. Din was following, slower. His breathing was labored, and Cara saw the scorching at the extreme upper edge of his armor above his heart.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Din said, still panting.

Cal and the droid torpedoed down beside them. “What kind of weapon has the range to fire all the way from that arena?”

“An MK-modified rifle,” Cara answered promptly.

“Yes,” Din agreed. “Fennec Shand had one. I guess maybe she…didn’t die, or someone with as good an eye…got her blaster.”

“You okay?” Cal asked, eyeing Din.

Din nodded. “Let me go back to the _Crest_ …and bring it here to pick you up…. I don’t like this situation at all.”

He looked back in the direction of the ship and turned on something in his visor. “There’s something out there, further back,” he said.

Cara put the baby down and picked up the Brenny.

“It’s someone with a lightsaber of some kind,” Cal said.

“Change of plans.” Din turned to him. “Okay, Jedi, you ready for a challenge? You and I take on the lightsaber so Cara can get the baby back to the _Crest._ ”

“What about the sniper?”

“The dunes are high enough to cover us if we go this way, and by the time they’re not, we’ll be out of range. Cara, ready to make a break to the _Crest_?”

“Help me get the carrier back on,” she said. She wanted to knock some people out for this, but she knew it made sense for Din and his beskar to go. At least when the baby was at risk. Din adjusted the carrier across her back. Sprout looked up at them, seeming worried. 

“We’ll keep you safe, little one,” Din told him, giving him a gentle pat before he tucked him in.

“Ready,” Cara said, strapping the Brenny around her neck too. She gave Din a nod, and he nodded back before turning to the Jedi.

Din pressed a button to fire up his jetpack, then gave the signal. He went straight up, then Cal split his lightsaber into two (it did that?) and took off running toward the distant figure. Cara waited until they were clearly visible, then ran low for the _Crest._

She could see the flash of blasterfire where the men were, as well as the flash of Cal’s lightsabers, but nothing came near her as she plowed through the sand and boarded the _Crest_ , shut the door, put the baby in his seat, and fired up the engines. She might not know exactly what she was doing with this ship, but it didn’t have guns for nothing. And guns, she knew.

She lifted off and headed in the direction they had gone, though she couldn’t quite see them. She had to remind herself to fly high enough not to make a sandstorm on the surface. She muttered a steady stream of swear words--interrupted by an order to Squirt not to listen—until she finally saw… _What was that?_

_Moff Gideon?_ With a _black_ lightsaber?

“No! Your dad killed him!” she shouted to Sprout. “He was _dead._ ” What was Moff Gideon doing not only being alive, but also _here,_ for kriff’s sake?

A squadron of stormtroopers—what in the…?--lay behind a rise, firing on the Jedi. Cal was basically a blur, lightsabers flashing so fast her eyes couldn’t even track them—must be Jedi powers. She’d like to see Sprout do that one day. 

Had Cal’s presence (and theirs) in Mos Espa yesterday been reported to Moff Gideon, or did he already have a huge contingent here? This did not make _sense._

Cal charged Moff Gideon and the two clashed, lightsabers sparking where they met. Where was Din? There he was over their heads, firing both hand blasters into the ranks of troopers to cover Cal. Damn, but Din looked very, very fine down there. 

She jerked her thoughts away from how on that day on Nevarro not so long ago the sight of him taking on the TIE with only his jetpack had very nearly made her change her decision not to stay with him.

_Mind on the here and now, Cara._

There wasn’t much point in a gunship if you didn’t use the guns, so Cara took aim and pushed the button. 

The gaping hole appeared where the troopers had been firing on Din. She could no longer see Cal and Gideon. Abruptly Din appeared alongside the ship, indicating she should put down so they could climb aboard. She nodded and painstakingly landed behind a massive outcropping of rocks. 

Cara lowered the ramp and hoped it was one of her men she heard running up.

“He’s getting away! Back behind that rise!” Cal yelled, coming up behind her and pointing.

Sure enough, from behind the ridge, like a ghostly spirit awakened, rose a white TIE fighter. 

“Aw, kriff,” said Cara, lifting the _Crest_ off the ground and making sure the deflector shields were up. Where did Moff Gideon get all the credits for this fully equipped private army?

Din came running into the cockpit. He’d already discarded his jetpack and without hesitation he plopped down on Cara’s lap. “Cara, you take the guns on three. One, two, three.”

Cara released one of the flight sticks as Din took it, and she concentrated on the guns. 

The TIE wasted no time in coming after them, screaming down on them with its guns blazing. 

Din jerked the Crest into a slow roll. “Hold on,” Din said grimly, but all Cara could do was hope she’d strapped the baby in well and brace her boots as best she could. The first pass of the TIE seemed to have left them unscathed, but she hadn’t been able to land a single blast on Gideon either.

Din took the _Crest_ up, up and then leveled off. “Do you see him?” He was looking at the readouts on his panel, but Cara looked out the side window.

“Down there!” she shouted, pointing with her free hand. Din banked the _Crest,_ then put it into a dive straight toward the TIE’s trajectory that made the ship whine and Cara’s teeth rattle. 

But Din’s smashmouth strategy seemed sound, because as soon as they were in range Cara got in two huge hits before the TIE barely spun away. Then the jerk of a small impact in the rear and a wobble told Cara one of the _Crest_ ’s stabilizers was gone. Cara could hear Din swearing under his breath in a foreign language as he hauled up on the flight stick again.

She’d had no idea the ungainly old _Crest_ could maneuver like Din was flying it now, but he always found a way to bring the guns to bear for her while doing rolls and twists and things that were making her feel a little sick to her stomach. They’d have long since been dead with her flying. Guns, though—yes. She had those under control. She and Din were a good team here in this chair. They had _all_ the cockpit activities covered.

The TIE was now on their tail, and Din was clearly having difficulty shaking it. If Gideon wanted the baby so bad, she wondered again, why was he always trying to kill them? Or did he just want revenge now?

“Now or never,” Din muttered, and flipped a switch she didn’t know on the panel and jerked the flight stick. Something sounded like an explosion and the _Crest_ slammed to a near stop that would have thrown Cara out of the chair if Din hadn’t been anchoring her. As it was, she was so off balance she nearly missed the chance to fire the massive guns into Moff Gideon’s tail.

At last the TIE receded, smoking from the hit, into the distant horizon—not a fatal shot—and now, even though Din slammed a fist on the console, the poor old _Crest_ simply could not keep up. Other than the faint metallic groaning of the ship, there was silence as Din took the _Crest_ up out of the atmosphere of Tatooine. Finally he pushed the buttons that regulated their gravity controls and stood. 

“How the _hell,_ ” he said, “is Moff Gideon still alive? How many times does he have to be _dead_?” The suppressed fury in his voice alarmed Cara a bit.

He turned to Cara. “Did I not blow up his TIE on Nevarro?”

“You did. We saw it crash. Greef and I looked through the remains, and though there was no body, the Jawas and other scavengers had been at the wreckage so we never gave it another thought.”

“How did he get the darksaber?” That was Cal’s voice, quiet, from the back seat. “That was the darksaber, the symbol of Mandalorian rule, wasn’t it?” 

“It was,” Din said. His fists clenched and unclenched. “Moff Gideon destroyed my people, stole our resources, destroyed our refuge and most of the survivors, killed my friends, tried to kill my family and me, and now he has the symbol of my people?” He stood looking down at each of them, like some kind of god of war. His voice was cold.

“There will be a reckoning.”

  


  


Cara tried to get feeling back into her legs in the silence that followed Din’s departure from the cockpit. “All right,” she said when she finally had the use of her toes. She swiveled the chair to face Cal. “What’s this darksaber and why is my husband ready to make some heads roll over it?”

“It is a unique lightsaber made by the first and only Mandalorian Jedi, Tarre Vizsla. It has been the symbol of power, of rule over Mandalore, for a thousand years and more. I don’t know what happened to it during the Great Purge of Mandalore. But it seems to have ended up in the hands of Moff Gideon.”

“What is he doing on Tatooine, of all places?” Cara wondered. Sprout had climbed out of his seat and was asking to be picked up. She gave him a snuggle—the impulse came like instinct now.

“I wonder…,” Cal said. He thought for a minute. “How about the rifle that was firing on us? Your husband said it was like one Fennec Shand had used. There was a rumor that Shand had done extensive work for Moff Gideon back in the day. Perhaps they were—allies, or something more personal. Maybe he came here to investigate what happened to her.”

“And found out about Mando’s involvement?” Cara thought about the timing and all that had happened before their desperate standoff on Nevarro. Had Gideon discovered Shand’s death, or at least Din’s connection with it, beforehand? If so, that could have fueled his ruthlessness that day. 

More likely, from what she knew, he was just ruthless all the time. 

Cara leaned back in the chair with the baby. She felt decidedly odd. It took a little bit of time to recognize that she was not champing at the bit to hunt down Moff Gideon like Din was. Of course she wouldn’t mind taking him out and ridding the galaxy of him forever. She was angry, sure. But where was the burning drive to avenge her people? What was wrong with her? Was having a heart full of love for Din—and even Sprout, nestled here in her lap—making her too soft?

She would have to think about that later. 

“This kind of put a damper on your podracing course,” Cara said. “Sorry about that, Cal.”

BD-1 beeped sadly, but Cal shrugged. “It’s most likely all legend anyway, so I’m not all that sorry to have missed out.”

Cara sighed. Obviously Din had thought it was pointless to try to confront Moff Gideon again now, or he wouldn’t have brought them out of the atmosphere. She pasted on a smile for Cal. 

“I know you want to be on your way. So where to, then?” Cara asked. She hoped he wouldn’t see how desperately she and Din needed their room to themselves again, approximately yesterday. The stabilizer should hold until they found a safe landing where they could fix it. Hopefully.

“Understood.” Cal smiled back because he probably knew her ulterior motive anyway. “Kashyyyk, if I could. I have an old friend to meet before I speak with Merrin.”

“Kashyyyk it is,” Cara said, bringing up the data and punching in the coordinates.

  


  


Cara waved to Cal and BD-1 long after they were out of sight in the gloom of the giant native trees. He would be a great teacher for Sprout—whose ears slowly drooped as Cal faded into the gloom. She had clasped Cal’s hand and squeezed it warmly, trying to convey her gratitude for not breaking up her family. Din, of course, had given him one firm nod and turned away. 

Cara steeled herself to turn and face Din. He was just out of sight in the darkness of the hold. 

“What’s next?” Cara asked quietly.

Din came into the light at the entrance by the ramp. 

“I will take the child to the Jedi to be taught when he calls for us. But until then,” he said, his voice growing harsh, “I will find Moff Gideon, take the darksaber back for Mandalore, and kill him.” 

Cara looked down at Sprout, who looked back questioningly. Cara had no answers for him. 

_Well, Cara, he’s deadly and he’s dangerous. You love that about him, so saddle up, honey. This is_ exactly _what you signed up for._

Cara pressed the button to close the ramp. She had no intention of leaving Din Djarin, so she’d get ready for a wild ride. With the Jedi around, things had gotten a little too quiet anyway.

“Hey,” she said, coming to stand next to Din. She bumped her shoulder armor against his. “I think you meant _we._ ”

“I will kill him,” Din repeated. But then he looked down at the child, and he slowly took off his helmet. He took the baby from her and held him close in the other arm, then touched his forehead to Cara’s. His voice softened. “But there will always be _we. _”__

  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end, but…the door is open for many more adventures for this little family!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story because after December 2019, I wanted to make sure that there would always be a happy ending for these three Star Wars characters that I love. I was hell-bent on IG-11ing them—nursing and protecting and making sure they survive, along with the ones they love. And since the world stopped turning this spring, I thought it might be nice to post it too.
> 
> I don’t doubt that season 2 will look nothing like this (especially with recent casting rumors), but…I’m fine with that. Sure, it’s possible I might like season 2 even more than what I wrote, but if not, I’ll always have this story (and other good ones I or others might write) to fall back on, because sometimes happy endings are necessary. 😊
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos, and especially to the kind souls who commented!


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